In Explanation
by starlight2005
Summary: Some things aren't supposed to change. Some cases are supposed to be left alone, but when it has 'MAGIC' written all over it, some unwritten laws are dutifully broken. PRIDESHIPPING
1. Chapter 1

**Title: In Explanation  
**

**Author: starlight2005**

**Rating: T (to be safe)**

**Sequel to You'll Be Safe Here**

**A/N: As promised, here is the follow-up story of our favorite pharaoh. Sorry for the delay, I'm currently **_**still **_**attending class for college entrance exams this August (it being the University of the Philippines of course made it more complicated for me ::sighs::). Anyway, if something goes horribly wrong here, wrong grammar, info or stuff, please accept my apologies. You might notice that this is greatly influenced by my favorite book The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas. Great book, by the way. If not, do forgive me for my apparent ignorance. Oh, and by the way, don't hesitate to leave a review, okay? I'd love that. **

**::laughs:: I've kept you long enough. Read the first chapter and enjoy!**

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Chapter 1: Serenading Reveries

All journalists follow one similar philosophy, that is, to always maintain consistency no matter what. That for one to be the medium of truth and information, one must also prepare himself to practice what he preach unless he wishes to lose his credibility. Relatively, for one to gain the trust of other people, one should prove himself worth of such trust.

This way of thinking was easier said than done, however, but to those determined enough, maintaining every bit of credibility and near perfection was something one can easily accustomed with. And undercover agents who are depended on with various missions, all ranging from the least complicated to the most, also believe in such philosophy. Especially Yami Motou, World Protection Agent.

He was still the agency's best agent, deadly and cunning as ever, but everyone knew he had changed drastically within the span of three years. Exactly three years after he had gotten back at Shaqi, of course. How ironic, though, that our story will start with him standing by the window of his well-furnished office, listening to the pitter-patter of the rain. There was melancholy in the air, its origin far from being known to the crimson-eyed man, and with it floated an aura of uncertainty. Three years have passed so quickly, Shaqi was dead and the Nightstalkers have finally decided not to bug him anymore. It was nice, wasn't it? That he need not worry for any further danger watching his every move? That no one would ever scare him into thinking that something might have happened to someone he cares about. It was nice, right?

But still, everything seemed futile. The death of the 'bastard' he once called the man who killed himself didn't matter to him then, guarantying himself that he did what he had to do. Three years have passed indeed, and within those years, he couldn't bring himself to go on and forget what he had said and done then. It all felt so new to him, as if fighting Nightstalkers off, taunting Shaqi into finding him and manipulating every event and turning the tables around whenever Shaqi was concerned, were things he would normally do.

Why? He doesn't know.

He turned his back on the window as he looked at the drawer, he opened it and took out a folder stamped with red bold letters CASE CLOSED; he opened it again and looked at the picture in the upper right corner. His lips turned into a grimace, his eyes scrutinizing the man in the picture as if memorizing every detail, even the smallest scars on the man's face, and then he turned to read the last report regarding the case.

"_Suspect committed suicide after setting the warehouse on fire. Agent Motou witnessed every ordeal."_

The events were still glued vividly in his mind, his words echoed in his mind, the other's responses and cries of pain until death claimed him mingled ceaselessly with his random thoughts.

As if on cue, the door opened and Yami was brought back to his senses. He watched his partner settle himself in the sofa, granting said material to serve its purpose and please Bakura. The white-haired former thief stared at him and he stared back before going back to work. What was the point of reopening closed files, anyway?

"Something's troubling you," Bakura said, a statement rather than a question. He shook his head, denying it as usual before typing some words into his opened laptop.

"Nothing has happened ever since that mishap in January, what can disturb me?" the former monarch replied absentmindedly. The 'mishap' he was talking about, apparently, has happened more than four months ago.

"Something personal?" the other answered.

He grunted before deciding to ignore Bakura completely.

"You've been looking at the files again, haven't you?" Yami paused and looked at him, then turned away when he heard his phone ring. He smiled, that Seto of his always had perfect timing, he thought.

"Yes, Seto?"

"_Are you busy?" _

"Not exactly. Unless you call talking with Bakura busy, then that's your opinion, not mine. Surely the CEO of Kaiba Corporation has other more important things to do than ask if I'm busy?" He sensed the other smirk from the other line.

"_Bakura's there? I thought he's with Ryou right now. Is he more of a disturbance than of assistance?" _

"Seto, you know well enough that Bakura never assists. He just disturbs people. That's his job."

The executive laughed and his smile turned into a smirk as Bakura glared at him. "As much as I'd love talking to you all day, Dragon, I have other things to do so I'll just see you tonight, alright?"

"_I'll see you tonight. Bye Yami."_

The former pharaoh smirked at his partner, amused at seeing the other scowl at him before he shrugged nonchalantly and went back to work. He was absolutely certain his annoying partner was thinking up of things to remove that smug look on his face right now.

Which, as always, made him smirk even more.

XXX

It was already 7:00 PM when he arrived, his sleek new Porsche entering the curb and the mansion's garage. Seto's Ferrari was inside by now, he noticed, as he took his keys and walked inside. Just as he was about to open the door, however, he was pulled back and into a fiery kiss, which he returned with equal fervor.

Once they broke for air, he shook his head, whether out of amusement or exasperation, and then opened the door again. "Trust in you to sneak up on me, Dragon," he said to his lover. Seto grinned boyishly at him before spotting jet black hair sneaking off from the kitchen.

"You do know how worthless your attempts are from hiding that snack from us, right Mokuba?" he asked his younger brother, revealing an 18-year old and a bag of Lays. The younger Kaiba smiled sheepishly at them, and recently they wonder if said boy was just a childish 18-year old or a kid who happened to be an 18-year old.

"Welcome home, Seto, Yami. Hey, Ryou called and wondered where Bakura was. He was supposed to have dinner with Ryou and his girlfriend tonight," Mokuba greeted, diverging them from the present matter.

The CEO looked at his lover, the agent returning his gaze before sighing and flipping his phone open. "Bakura, you idiot, the dinner was tonight not tomorrow! Ryou's waiting for you and you're freaking him out," he told his partner, smiling smugly as the other panicked slightly before getting mad at him for not reminding him.

Seriously, Bakura, the monarch thought.

"See you tomorrow, tomb robber. By the way, whatever you're going to rant about Ryou, I certainly do not want to hear it, nor does Seto or Mokuba." Then he ended the call with satisfaction. Of course he didn't mean it, he would probably be forced to listen to the other the next day but hey, the white-haired agent didn't need to know he finds pleasure in annoying the other, right?

"Let's eat dinner," Seto said and pulled his lover into the dining room, following the hyperactive teen.

Just in the middle of their dinner, when Mokuba was finally made to eat his food and not just stare at it (having no appetite for such lavish tasteless kind of food), two consecutive rings from different mobile phones sounded in the hall, their owners alerted by the sounds brought and flipped the phones open.

"Paul," Yami answered, apathetic all of a sudden. The WPO chief seldom calls in the middle of their dinner unless something was really, really wrong. In fact, if it could be solved without him, Paul never calls at all.

"What is it?" the CEO said impatiently, knowing whoever called him would surely cost him his job if he didn't have a good reason why he called.

"_Mr. K-Kaiba… somebody bought 30 of the Kaiba Corporation shares"_

"What the hell do you mean 30?" he nearly yelled, briefly catching Yami's and Mokuba's concerned glances. He shook his head apologetically before leaving them to have the conversation in private.

Yami, finally reminding Paul was still on the other line, went back to their discussion. "I'm sorry. What were you saying, Paul?" he asked, the other, as he'd done before, repeated, fully understanding why the young agent had not heard him.

'_Mr. Edmond Morrell was ambushed just a few minutes ago. His wife and son were killed but he was saved from uncertain death by his driver. He's in the hospital right now." _

"Which hospital?" Yami replied, taking all the information in and thinking about every possible suspect existing in the globe. He made a move to stand from his seat, only to see his lover enter the hall with a scowl. This was definitely not good.

"_The one he owns."_

"Critical?"

"_Just a leg injury. He'll live."_

"And you want me to… check things out?"

"_No."_

"No?" the monarch repeated. If he wasn't taking the case; why being informed so soon then? He would receive the same report the next morning, wouldn't he?

"_I called to inform you because Mr. Morrell is one of the shareholders of Kaiba Corp. and the CEO might want to hear this directly from a credible source."_

XXX

**A/N: Bad me… leaving a cliffie like that… sorry… **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: This is bad. I'm starting to procrastinate. Finally, the second chapter. Just a brief note on the first chapter: I already have finished it a couple of weeks ago (before classes began) but I couldn't just post it without this chapter. And I couldn't find time to concentrate on writing stories coz people are bent on distracting me in class. So… there. Sorry for making you wait. Eep…**

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Chapter 2: Concern

No amount of words could describe how he felt right now, his hand clenching painfully into a fist as he all but willed himself not to smash his phone to the wall. No one could beat him in his game, he was confident of that. Until this… this person pulled some strings and bought enough shares to threaten him like this.

He will not put up with this.

Not for that person who thought he would be lured into the traps laid out for him.

"Seto? Dragon, are you alright?" Yami asked, catching his attention. The executive spun around and breathed shakily, releasing his anger at the sight of his lover's face. He shook his head numbly and closed the distance between them abruptly, pulling the agent towards him into a fierce hug.

He could feel the other embrace him back, as if trying to comfort him, and again, he shook his head. He was sure the agent has other problems, problems worse than his. After all, wasn't he just a CEO? Compared to the agent, who was still bent on ridding the world of 'danger', weren't his problems just a small fraction compared to Yami's?

Now where did that line of thinking come from?

"Seto, I have to tell you something," he heard the crimson-eyed former monarch say.

He nodded and waited, hopefully ignoring the stares he was getting from the ex-pharaoh. It was one thing to be subjected to unending company-related threatening problems but to be the object of those stares… it was unsettling.

"One of your shareholders, Mr. Edmond Morrell, was ambushed a few minutes ago. His wife, Susanna, and son were killed."

"Makes sense," was his reply. It made sense. Of course, they would try to force Morrell to sell his shares. And the man obviously resisted, which led whoever planned the ambush to kill his wife and son. That poor man was probably aware of the fact already.

"I see," Yami answered, "Paul called a while ago to inform me that. But I won't be going to check how he's feeling. I'm sorry."

"Why? You don't have to feel obligated to do that, Yami."

The former pharaoh sighed and kissed him lightly before walking towards the desk. "I'm off to work again, you should go ahead. I'll follow later," he told his lover and opened his laptop. He knew the executive would just let him be. He would do the same anyway.

Seto nodded and made his way to bed. A few minutes later, with a few help from the sound of the continuous typing, he was lulled to sleep, forgetting what happened even for just a few hours. He missed, however, the occasional glances the agent would give him as he silently worked on the last bits of his report.

XXX

When Seto Kaiba woke up at exactly 5:00 AM, he was quite aware of the fact that Yami didn't sleep. And judging from the still opened laptop, and the program currently on said laptop, he didn't stop working either. There was a faint sound of someone taking a shower in the bathroom and he was sure it was Yami, who was apparently preparing to go to work.

It was more of a routine nowadays, and it would concern either of them. There were, of course, times when it was the pharaoh who would sleep and he would work all night. But this was an example of those nights where the roles are reversed and he does all the sleeping.

"Good morning," Yami greeted.

"You haven't slept."

"I guess," the agent answered nonchalantly while dressing up, "Paul called and wanted me to tell you that Mr. Morrell's fine. But he's sending some agents to watch over the man."

"That's good news," Seto answered. "You're going there, then?"

Yami shook his head, "No. He doesn't want me to involve in those matters," he replied, "You know Paul." To anybody else, his reply was said more out of exasperation than anything else, as if tired of being protected all the time. But to Seto, it suited him just fine. It doesn't matter because it wasn't said out of annoyance.

"I'm done," the agent's voice brought him back to his senses as he looked at his lover over. He shook his head in amusement as he saw the two guns. Trust in Yami to be this… ready.

"I'll see you later then?"

"I'll try, Seto. Bakura said he had something to check in the eastern district. And you know he gets into trouble almost always."

Seto nodded, "Alright. Lines kept open, okay, Yami?"

"Yes, Seto."

The agent kissed him before leaving the room, knowing the CEO would follow and prepare for work too. Mokuba would wake up an hour later to see his big brother off before preparing for college. As mentioned before, life in the mansion was a routine.

XXX

"So, how was your dinner with Ryou?" Yami asked, smirking ever so cocky as he entered the office. He watched as his partner threw a pillow at him and ducked.

"Shut up, Yami."

"Seriously, how did it go?"

"I'm going to hit you."

"You can try but you know you couldn't catch up with me, tomb robber," Yami teased. "Edmond Morrell was attacked last night, by the way. Did Paul tell you that?"

"I guess," Bakura answered, letting the pharaoh's behavior slip for the meantime, "But I was busy talking with Ryou so I had him tell you. You'll tell me anyway," he continued. Yami shrugged.

"What if I didn't?"

"Now, that's impossible, Yami. You never let news like that be kept a secret for such a long time," it was Bakura's time to tease. "Especially that news about you and Seto… who would have thought it would take only a few drinks."

"Tease all you want, Bakura. I'm not in an arguing mood right now. We have work to do, remember?"

"Workaholic pharaoh," the white-haired tomb robber muttered as he handed the paperwork. "Nightstalkers were seen entering this club since last week but allegations were only confirmed yesterday. That's why I called you."

"And let me guess, we're to handle this case?"

"Exactly."

"When do we leave?" Yami asked. Finally!

Bakura smirked, "Who says its urgent business? Your eyes are telling me you need sleep."

"Since when can you read eyes? Believe me, Bakura, I'm more than ready and healthy to work on this case. Besides, how hard can this be? Infiltrate the area, spy on them, then report back to headquarters. Not a complicated task to do."

"It's hard to believe you're the straight-faced cautious and did I mention overly-protective pharaoh in our previous life. Who knew you'd be as reckless… no, more reckless than my former self and the priests combined?!"

"Looks can be deceiving," Yami answered with a grin.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Bakura replied, "Now, pray tell, what do you intend to do tonight?"

He can only shake his head as he met the smirk in the pharaoh's face.

XXX

The lamp kept on swaying, the light annoying them by blinking on and off repeatedly, anything else in the room was covered in darkness, hiding the identity of five people well. They were planning something, and with the way they were smiling, it was apparently something that affects the WPO agents.

"Remember, boss wants the agent alive. Kill the partner if you must, but Motou is to be left alive," one of them warned. From the window overlooking the dancefloor below, they could see people of different ages and outfits dancing with sheer abandon.

Too bad they all have to get into this mess.

"If they don't show up?" another asked.

"Doesn't matter. They'll find out eventually, all we need to do is wait."

* * *

**A/N: There, two chapters! Ha! Nah, it doesn't feel like an achievement. I don't know what to write anymore. Wah… that's bad… very bad… writer's block is a pain in the ass. Darn. **

**Ah well… review, okay? Tah! **


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: This is nice. I'm exhausted all I want to do is sleep. Who knew I'd be getting piles of schoolwork to do over the weekend, never mind the fact that I also have review classes? Amazing, I'm working myself to death. **

**I guess this chapter is influenced by my being a sadist right now. I don't know why, though. Maybe because I'm in a really, really bad mood and I'm basically mad at everyone in the house. Ah well… **

**Hope this chapter suits you well. **

XXX

Chapter 3: New Faces, New Troubles

_You will never know you're in danger until you're face-to-face with it, and with no means to escape. _

XXX

There was something to be said about instincts, and how often people take it as unnecessary and annoying. And because of such attitude, those people end up making the most number of worst mistakes in life that they would likely regret.

Something wrong would happen tonight.

The club was oddly full and more than usual lively, the two agents noticed. Cars were parked in both sides of the street, ignoring the rule that says to do otherwise. Everything about the club was loud as if it would serve a purpose in the future.

"Correct me if I'm wrong but I think this is truly strange," Yami muttered to his partner, who nodded his agreement. "It looks like they've prepared for our arrival."

"What do you intend to do then?" Bakura asked, hiding his annoyance at the idea of his plan backfiring and their cover almost blown. He heard the former monarch load his gun, hiding it well enough that it couldn't be noticed even with watchful eyes.

"You want to take the back?"

Bakura smirked, "Sure. We meet inside, then," he replied, watching as his partner's eyes seemed to glimmer in the dark with ferocity. "Where are our shadow powers when we need them?" he asked aloud, knowing full well the other would only shake his head.

"See you inside," Yami answered instead and made his way to the club across the street, hugging his leather jacket closer to his body to fight the night chill.

XXX

Everything happened so fast, they can barely recall when it started or how it ended. All Yami knew was how loud the music was blasting from the speakers and remember how deadly frightened the people inside the club were after hearing the first gunshot and a fallen body.

Everyone started to panic then, running for the nearest exit, half of them succeeding in fleeing. The other half wasn't fortunate enough because as soon as the last girl who managed to escape left the door, five heavily-armed men blocked the door and pointed their guns at the terrified teens.

Yami, however, reacted differently. He went over to the bar stand and hid there, knowing Bakura would be there as soon as he took out his gun, ready to shoot whoever dared to threaten his life.

"I was actually expecting this to happen," he heard Bakura say. He smirked as the other crouched beside him and took out his own gun.

"Aren't they predictable?" Yami answered.

Bakura smirked back at him and stayed still, hearing the faint sounds of footsteps from the other side of the room.

"Find the agents!" they heard someone say.

The former pharaoh met his partner's gaze and frowned, so they were expecting them after all. He shook his head. This is ridiculous, he thought.

"We have to leave," he whispered to his partner.

"Easier said than done," the former thief replied.

"We head to the back as quiet as possible. We don't need them shooting at us, or having the teens as hostages."

Bakura nodded in agreement before crawling back to where he entered, only to realize it was locked. He cursed inwardly and tried to fumble with the doorknob, "It's locked," he told the other.

"Damn it," Yami muttered. "They were planning this all along."

The two agents turned around, facing seven men pointing their guns at them. Yami grimaced at the thought of being caught as he hid one of his guns, "Cover's blown, Motou," one of the men said.

"It would really help if you stop pointing the obvious," the crimson-eyed agent retorted. Now, if only they could hide one of their guns in a nearby place, he thought. This is definitely not my day, he thought.

"Your replies won't do any good, Motou, I'm assuming you already know that. I'm afraid I was wrong," the man answered.

"Ah, my bad. It would be dumb of you if you don't stop pointing the obvious," the agent replied sarcastically, "And no, not my replies. I can't help it if other people are jealous of a normal person's intelligence. I can't really help it if you're stupid, can I?"

To add to the tension inside the club, both agents smirked, facing their captors arrogantly (as ever). "What? Out of things to say already?" It was Bakura's time to annoy the man, "And to to think I was expecting you to say something after that reply. I guess I was mistaken."

"You're lucky you're still alive, thief," the man snapped, glaring at the tomb robber.

Now here's the thing, there were only a limited number of people in the world who knew about their past lives, Yami told himself. There was the gang, Solomon Motou, Seto and Mokuba Kaiba, Paul, and the two agents that were just killed.

How the hell did this person know Bakura was a thief?

"I'm not afraid to die, unlike you rotten cowards," Bakura answered, apparently unaware that the other knew of his past.

"Isn't it ironic that someone like you would work with the person you vowed to kill?" the man replied.

Bakura's eyes widened. Finally, Yami thought dryly.

"Who cares?" the former pharaoh answered, "I'm guessing you're a Nightstalker. And since I'm almost always right, I'm telling you now that you people are going to be extinct soon."

"Are they your last words? Sounds crappy," the man said.

"Who the hell are you anyway?" Bakura asked, "It may be useful when I kill you."

The man smiled cryptically before turning his back, "Bring Motou," he told one of his men.

"And the other agent?"

"Kill him."

Yami's eyes widened. What the hell do they want from him now? He watched as his partner glared angrily at the retreating back of the man. Realization dawned at him. How could he forget their guns?

"Bakura, my gun's beside you. Get it," he whispered. His partner stared at him before doing as instructed, "And what about you?" Bakura asked.

Yami shook his head, "I'll manage. For the meantime, what we need to do is find a way for you to escape."

"I'll distract them, you escape."

"Yami—"

"Bakura, just do it."

"You're my partner, aren't you? I can't –"

"It doesn't matter anymore. We need you alive. NOW!"

As Yami pushed his partner backwards, he ran towards the 'hostages', making sure all eyes were on him as Bakura escaped. Seeing the former tomb robber open the door and leave, he stopped as he was caught.

"Well, well," the man said as he was brought to him, "I never expected the famous Yami Motou to be caught so easily."

"Yeah well, I figured it would be easier if I killed you all in one place. That wouldn't make such a mess, would it?"

"We'll see about that, Motou," the other said, "Where's the other?"

"He uhh…" one of his 'minions' tried to explain. The man grimaced and punched the stammering man, "You idiots! You let him get away!"

"Well? What the hell are you waiting for? Go after him, idiots!"

The man turned around and breathed angrily, meeting Yami's smirking face. "Aww… did his mediocre plan backfire? Poor man… I guess we people are really smarter than people like you," the former pharaoh taunted.

He felt the other punch him as he staggered backwards, "Is that it? You should know I don't die out of these things," he mocked, "You punch like a girl, by the way."

The other shook his head, as if trying to calm himself, "Doesn't matter. By the time they get here anyway, you'll be dead and we would have escaped. By that time, we already got what we want and there's nothing they could do anymore."

"Is that a threat or is that a rant that would obviously go wrong?"

"As I've said before, your answers wouldn't help you in any way now, Motou," the man told him, "Now, you have to option. Option A, you cooperate and we'll kill you the fastest way possible; Option B, you don't cooperate and we'll still kill you. Plus, we torture you and kill your family members after you die."

"I know I heard that from a movie somewhere. Where's your originality?" Yami answered, "By the way, you should also know that these options don't exactly work well with me, too."

"It's Option B then."

Yami sighed, "Some people here are really stupid," he said aloud, grinning evilly at the man who apparently got the message, and looked like he was ready to hit the captive agent any time.

"If you want to punch me, by all means, go ahead. You punch like a girl, remember?"

The man merely glared at him before smirking, "Fine. Don't tell me I didn't warn you," he told the agent. Yami merely smirked at him arrogantly. As usual.

"Sure, let's pretend I'm afraid."

"Men, tie him down."

XXX

**A/N: This is a product of my mood right now. I am terribly pissed off and damn it, I swear I'll kill the next person who would dare provoke me. Damn it. **

**By the way, don't forget to drop a review and tell me what you think, okay?**

**Can anyone guess what's going to happen next? **


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Aha, I'm back! Yey! To be honest, I don't know how I came up with this chapter (maybe schoolwork has finally taken its toll on me…) Anyway, yeah, here's chapter 4 of the story. Read and review!**

**Note to self: Do bring an umbrella next time so your draft (for the chapter) WILL NOT GET WET! Okay? Fine. –grumbles- **

**This chapter is unfortunately two weeks delayed, which is annoying in itself because I really, really want to update as frequent as I can. Can anyone please tell me how to cure this stupid 'writer's block' or whatever?! Ugh. It seems coffee doesn't work on me anymore. **

Chapter 4: Prelude to Disaster

_The best thing one can ever gain from silence, and capture, is the chance to think of ways to escape. Plans, however, normally backfire and rescues, delayed until cliché as it may sound, it's all too late. _

XXX

He isn't answering my calls.

Seto Kaiba, proud CEO of Kaiba Corporations, seethed. He glared at his mobile phone as if blaming it for the lack of communication between the two of them. True, he knew better than to bother his rival turned lover-slash-agent, Yami Motou, when said former monarch was working on a mission. But certainly there are exceptions to that golden rule? Exceptions include threatening death messages (that would likely be stopped, therefore proving its futility) and random irritating stalkers of some kind.

"_Who would have thought after three millennia, you end up as lovers? The pharaoh and his priest. But would it last? "_

The thing here is, e-mails such as this, no matter how 'credible' they may look like, are extremely easy to ignore. Simply press the 'delete' button and one can already put an end to the message's annoyingness, if that is even considered a word. Now, why did he not use a word that sounded real (not to mention, sane) even this once?

If only he hadn't noticed the words pharaoh and priest, lovers, and millennia cramped into one annoying paragraph. How did that person know? (Okay, so maybe he declared he didn't believe in the so-called 'past' but when you have a 3000 + year old lover, wouldn't you be expected to believe the unbelievable?) Moreover, who was this person?

"Mr. Kaiba—"

"How many times must I threaten you with your job to remember not to disturb me when I'm busy with the problems incompetent employees here have caused?" he interrupted, glaring impatiently at the horrified (dead scared X.X) secretary.

"Umm… yes… Mr. Kaiba… Mokuba Kaiba, sir, is in Line 1, and you said… to—"

"I know what I said. You may leave."

Knowing what's best for her job, she hurried to the door and went back to work. Why oh why did she accept this job in the first place?

Seto shook his head once he was alone and picked up the line. Here's another fact unwary homo sapiens should know about the CEO's rules-that-are-never-to-be-broken. One of these rules quite bluntly states that he was to be notified of all phonecalls coming from either Mokuba or Yami. Failure to do so would mean being given the pink slip.

It didn't help, though, if the executive we're talking about here was lividly waiting for people to make a mistake during office hours and ready to annihilate all forms of existence in this world and the next. And that's the poor secretary's opinion, by the way.

"Mokuba, what is it?"

"What took you so long, priest?"

Bakura? What the hell?

"Damn right." He could read minds now? "You better get here now," the former tomb robber ordered.

If that rowdy psycho was there, Seto mused, then why did Yami—where _is _Yami?

"Priest?!" Bakura exclaimed. "You should know better that I'm trying to run after time here, idiot priest!"

"Baka," Seto retorted, "Where's Yami?"

"No time to explain. I need to go back to the club, and you're obviously in-danger." He heard the white-haired agent murmur something about being an ignorant priest and whatnot until, "Yami's in trouble, we had a …"

He didn't like what the agent was saying. At all. How did they mess up?

"Bakura, damn it, can you just tell me what happened and get to the point! And why are you in my house when your partner's still in that club?"

"No time to explain. If you want me to save him, you better get your ass here pronto!"

Yukiko what's-her-name, his secretary, can only gape at her boss as he rushed to the elevator, muttering incomprehensible words. She stole a glance at the digital clock on the other desk, it read: 10:00 PM.

Surprising, what could happen that her boss, who was quite famous for staying up late in the office, would leave three hours earlier than what his usual schedule entails?

XXX

Yami kept himself from flinching whenever someone manages to hit him. He would get beaten up, no doubt. "You know better that this isn't working, right?" he still taunted, though; smirking cockily at the man watching him with sadistic delight.

"You got me wrong. This is only the beginning, Motou," the man answered. This caught the agent by surprise and he stopped abruptly, processing the words in his head as he glowered at the other.—just in time for the goon behind him to knock him unconscious.

When he had regained consciousness, he was aware of a few things. One: that he was in a different room and it's dark. Very dark. Two: that his arms were bound tight as hell and he could feel eyes on him, as if watching his every move. Three: for some inane reason, they have forgotten to check him for weapons and gadgets. He shrugged, that would be their problem, anyway.

"If you're trying to torture me by locking me in a place that I am already accustomed to, then please, stop it. Your efforts are worthless."

"We'll see about that," the man countered. "Make sure he wouldn't be able to escape," he told one of his men.

The man revealed a syringe in front of the agent, "You know, the good thing about Science is we develop things that could make our lives easy."

"Wow, I'm surprised you actually know that," Yami replied.

The other shook his head, dismissing the retort, "How would you feel if you were sent to the place you came from, Motou?" he asked. The agent stared at him emotionlessly, utterly bored and bent on annoying his captor more.

The other waited for an answer but he didn't get one, "I'm sure you wouldn't like that, though. What with a rich bastard like Seto Kaiba as a lover, right?"

Yami's eyes widened in surprise, how did—?

"What? You didn't know we were aware of your relationship?"

"Who the hell are you?" the agent snapped. He was sure their relationship was quite a secret. The media, what with all their 'nose for news' thing, didn't even know!

His captor merely laughed at his remark, ignoring the glares the former pharaoh was giving him and approached the agent with the syringe. Beckoning two of his men to hold the agent tightly, he smirked at the other's confused and enraged stares. "This wouldn't hurt," he whispered in the other's ear and stabbed the syringe into the agent.

"For me, of course," he added and watched in amusement as the monarch gasped in pain and clenched his eyes shut, feeling the effects of the drug instantly. Yami started to convulse, his face losing all its color; he tried his best to send the other to his death with his fiercest glare but he couldn't as he all but lost his consciousness.

XXX

Something unexpected was bound to happen, Bakura thought to himself as he scurried through the now vacant and badly-decorated rooms of the club. He growled angrily as he smashed the door of another 'empty' room, a worrywart Bakura was not someone he wanted to be. This is annoying, he realized.

So maybe there were a lot of things that peeved him a bit (emphasis on _bit_). But darn it, among all things, that priest _and_ those idiotic Nightstalkers were getting on his nerves! And even though he wouldn't admit it was mostly his fault why his partner was caught and the cover blown, it didn't help that he couldn't even find the former pharaoh who happened to be in utmost danger.

Damn it all.

Cursing in every language he knew, he ran outside, having checked on the rooms but still finding no missing agent, and heard the screeches of car tires. They've left! He dashed across the backyard, or whatever lame excuse the pitiful land behind the club is called, and happened upon an unconscious figure on the ground.

That wouldn't be Yami, he thought to himself and would have ignored the sight if it weren't for that tiny, reprimanding voice inside his head shouting at him that there was only one person who exists in the world with a hair who looked like a tri-haired fern (and no, don't tell your partner about that). And how that tiny voice figured it was indeed tri-haired in the dark, he couldn't really answer.

"YAMI!"

He hurried to his partner's side, noticing instantly how ghostly pale the other was, and how he felt cold to the touch. Bakura's eyes widened, his blood ran cold. These were the effects of—

"Ra damn it," he cursed and called the ambulance right away.

It was a good thing those cowards weren't there when he found the monarch because if they were, he would have probably ripped their eyes out with his own two hands. And probably use them as target practice.

Those pathetic excuses for humans would wish they weren't born at all, Bakura thought to himself. Great, just great; now the CEO would definitely kill him, too.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: About the previous chapter's title, Prelude to Disaster. According to Webster, prelude (n) means an introductory act or event; or an event preceding another of greater importance. What happened in Chapter 4 was just an appetizer (sort of). This is, after all, just the beginning and things would inevitably go from bad to worst. And since I'm feeling bad because I haven't updated that much, I'll give you chapter 5, which is longer than the usual. So… uhh… enjoy? **

**By the way, don't get confused when reading the chapter, okay? You'll understand what I'm telling you when you get to the part where he meets someone while he's unconscious. **

**There… already done. **

**(FINALLY!) **

Chapter 5: Forward into the Past

"_In a morbid condition of the brain, dreams often have a singular actuality, vividness and extraordinary semblance of reality. At times monstrous images are created, but the setting and the whole picture are so truthlike and filled with details so delicate, so unexpected, but so artistically consistent that the dreamer, were he an artist like Pushkin or Turgenev even, could never have invented them in the waking state. Such sick dreams always remain long in the memory and make a powerful impression on the overwrought and deranged nervous system." Crime and Punishment, Fyodor Dostoyevsky _

He opened his eyes, unseeing at first for he wasn't accustomed to the light all of a sudden, and blinked away whatever remains of his grogginess. Underneath him was a soft mattress, he felt it, and idly wondered where he was. There was something strange about this place, for some unknown reason; however, he couldn't point out what exactly it was.

His upper arm had a bandage around it when he lifted it up and his gun was missing, there was something around his head, too, he realized, as he rose from the bed. What a mistake it was, he wasn't accustomed to walking either. He fell and grimaced when he hit the floor, where was the mattress? What's going on?

This is absurd, he thought, and stood up again, mildly proud that he didn't fall anymore. But then again, blanched when he realized he wasn't on the ground either. He was floating, actually, and how he did that, he didn't know.

It was wiser to take advantage of the situation, though, so he went to the door instead. And found out it was a mirror of some sort. Funny thing was, he couldn't see his reflection on it when the things behind him had their own doppelgangers in the mirror. He made a move to touch the mirror; he didn't touch it. Why?

Then he fell to the ground again, as if gravity had suddenly returned and decided to make fun of him. He fell and everything went black literally, the mirror vanished and the bandage on his arm dissipated. The lamp blew up, throwing dagger-like glass fragments at him, but he was left unscathed.

"You are evil, darkness suits you better."

Yami's eyes widened, he was pretty sure he was alone in wherever he is right now. And yes, he was perfectly sure it wasn't him who said that too. Then again, it might be possible considering the fact that things have become weirder with every second.

"I'm losing my mind," he told himself.

"I'm surprised you couldn't figure out what's going on, or even who I am," he heard again. Now he was absolutely sure he didn't _really _say that.

It's either he was dead, or he was in a coma, he thought just to calm himself. If only he could remember what really happened before this then maybe he'd figure out what's going on. Then again, it wouldn't matter because he'd still be stuck in this dreadful place.

What are the chances that he is really dead?

"How idiotic can you be? Of course you're not dead. Yet."

"If you told me what's going on, and why I'm here then maybe I'd understand even more," the former pharaoh snapped. "It would be better if you show yourself, too, so I won't have to convince myself that I'm going nuts."

And guess who appeared in front of him?

"Bakura?"

"Guess again."

Yami's eyes widened. That… he looked exactly like Bakura… except for that terrible scar on his cheek; and that insane sadistic glint in the other's eyes. But he died! It can't be—

"I'm very well alive, _pharaoh_"

"Tomb Robber!"

Said white-haired thief smirked, patting his head mockingly, "I'm surprised you still remember me. You're a rather forgetful lot last time I heard," he answered sarcastically.

"What the hell are you doing here? More importantly, why are you here?"

"And to think they call you respectful and courteous. Have you not lost your respect to the dead, oh mighty pharaoh who couldn't even figure out what's going on?"

Yami glared at him at first before walking away, "I do not have time for your silly and pointless games, thief. Now, if you have nothing else to do, why don't you just go back to where you come from?"

He was expecting the other to retort or do something highly Bakura-like but the other merely laughed at him, as if he did something stupid. "This is my place," he replied, "now that you remind me, you shouldn't be here at all. You're in my territory and goody two shoes pharaohs like you don't belong here."

That would do just fine, the pharaoh thought.

"If this is a nightmare, please, let me wake up," he muttered until he was aware of that extremely familiar weight on his chest. He looked down and saw his Millennium Puzzle—the same puzzle he was sure he had safely disposed of before he entered the agency. Did he mention he was wearing his clothes in Ancient Egypt now?

"What the hell, Bakura?!"

"Don't you like it?" the tomb robber asked teasingly as he stepped forward. Yami instinctively stepped back, surprised to feel a wall behind him. "After all those boring lectures on remembering the past? Your speeches made me sick, mind you, then again, the very sight of you makes me sick. So there's not much of a difference, is there?"

"Ever heard of the phrase 'people change'? Of course you wouldn't, you're dead after all and folks like you don't normally understand the modern world do you?" Yami answered back.

Egyptian Bakura (A/N: I know, lacks creativity, but bear with me!) merely smiled. "Not all I have to admit, but more than enough to know that you wouldn't be able to ignore what's really been consuming you all these years, pharaoh," he said, trapping the other effectively between him and the wall.

Yami narrowed his eyes and pushed him away, "Nothing is consuming me. I am not like you I can assure you that."

"Oh? How come you know what I'm talking about? How come," Bakura questioned, shoving the other to the wall, "I can feel your anger and hatred seeping from your body and ready to explode?"

"You're not exactly the same person you are before, are you, pharaoh?"

"You know nothing about me so you will stop from presuming things, tomb robber!"

"Always the bossy one, you are, pharaoh."

Yami growled in anger as he was once again trapped in the other's grip. "Get your hands off me!" he exclaimed. Just as he was about to push the other away, the tomb robber vanished and he fell into a pit—a seemingly unending pit.

XXX

"_Is that the best you've got, Motou?" _

"_No sir!"_

"_Five more laps." _

_Yami followed the order without hesitance, eyes narrowing in fury. He'll show him. He'll show that sadistic trainer of his not to mess with him. "Is that all you can do? I'd hurry up if I were you, Motou!" His hands clenched tightly into fists and he ran faster. _

"_Not bad for a wimp like you," his trainer told him. "But then again, Street here can do better, and what? He's the worst in class." _

"_I can do better," he answered._

"_I know you can, but the question is, will you?" the other asked, lips forming a mocking grin, "five more laps."_

"_But—"_

"_What did I say? You are a wimp after all."_

"_I'll make it ten."_

"_Go ahead. I'm not giving you rewards, though. I'll see you tomorrow, Motou."_

_Yami glared at the back of his trainer before carrying out the order. Just he wait, the agent-in-training told himself, and I'll prove him how pathetic he really is. "I'll prove him wrong," he said. _

He remembered how ready he was to collapse then and there after that absurd move of his. He remembered Bakura reprimanding him for his stupidity and picking him up as he gave in to weariness. It was raining hard back then, and he was shivering when they went back to their dorms. The former thief was still making vows to kill that bastard of a trainer when he fainted.

But that didn't make a difference. He had started to change even then.

"_Why did you let the suspect live, Motou? You had the gun, why didn't you shoot him?"_

"_He still has to undergo trial, sir."_

"_What are you, an idiot? That man you just allowed to live had already killed twenty school girls two years ago, his criminal record has given you more than enough proof and justification that you, Yami Motou, are required to give him his long due justice." _

"_Justice, sir? Justice is for him to undergo trial and face his charges—"_

"_And you think it would be served then? Face truth, Motou, we do not have a justice system. We do not have a functioning court, and we do not have judges who know what they're doing." _

"_Sir—"_

"_You are dismissed, Motou."_

"_But sir—"_

"_Are you this stupid you can't even follow a simple order? DISMISSED, MOTOU."_

_Yami saluted and left punched his door as he opened it and slammed it harder upon entering his room. If that's what __**he **__want, then that's what __**he **__will get._

The former pharaoh opened his eyes, found himself staring at nothing at all. Why was he remembering all these things? He had been so angry back then, he was furious, he was even ready to kill. Why show it to him now?

Because he had the time or was it something the tomb robber (Ra kill him now if he admitted this out loud) said that was actually coming true?

"_Going somewhere, Shaqi?" _

"_Why yes, my Yami. I believe it is time for me to leave."_

_Sick bastard. "Do not call me yours for I will never be. Step away from the car."_

"_Will you really shoot me, Yami? Are you that cold-hearted?"_

"_Yes."_

"_Too bad."_

"_For you."_

_Shaqi slowly stepped away from his car as he had instructed. Before he could react, the other pounced on him and pinned him to the floor. "Those punches might have knocked your senses badly, do you want me to fix them, Yami?" _

"_You will get off me now."_

"_Why should I?" _

_Yami pushed Shaqi off him and winced at the movement before he took the gun and pointed it at the grinning man, "Your hands where I can see them." Shaqi smiled at him. That lunatic!_

"_Goodbye Yami." _

_There was an explosion after that, but all he could see was Shaqi's face crunching in pain and smiling at him. _

XXX

"I'm betting you've experienced enough to be convinced, pharaoh?" Bakura asked when the agent went back to normal and broke away from his flashbacks. Yami glared at him, "Proves nothing," he answered back.

"You people are stubborn, do you know that?"

"Better than to be submissive all the way, at least we know we still fight for something," Yami replied. "We're still alive, how about you?"

"Well you're not exactly alive, are you, Atemu?"

Yami's eyes widened. "What?" So he was taken aback but surely the tomb robber, ludicrous as he is, wasn't telling something of relative importance? And why call him by his Egyptian name? He wasn't the same person anymore.

"I'll let you into something. That drug injected on you, it kills people the moment it reaches the bloodstream. Technically, you're dead," Bakura told him, "And technically, you're alive."

"Will you make up your mind? Am I dead or what?"

"You're neither."

"Not again."

"I think this is the gods' lame excuse for a joke. Who knew you could be so dense, pharaoh? I suppose even the afterlife isn't that amazing," the other replied. "And unlike what your little doppelganger gave you, I'm not giving you a choice."

Yami glared, "Don't call him that. Yugi's different from me in almost all aspects—"

"And that isn't the point. You lucky bastard, you won't die this time because no matter how disgusting this may sound, you have to finish off those pathetic humans who gave you the drug. Not easy telling you, though, cause I'd prefer you dead so I can try killing you again but still—"

"Will you just make sense for once?!"

"You're going back there because the gods wanted to see if you're just like everyone else before. If you fail their little test, they take you away. If you succeed, deal's off."

"Everyone else before?"

"Like I said, you're not a good guy, pharaoh. You did whatever you did for your personal benefit. All of them, mind you, even in our time. So figure this out and I'd be waiting for you in hell!"

Yami blinked as the tomb robber vanished and he was left in the dark. His chest started to constrict painfully as if the pressure in the room (he assumed) was higher than usual. Bakura was wrong, he wasn't selfish. He wasn't, he really wasn't. Isn't it funny, though, that every time he comes close to admitting it, everything is clearer?

"Come on, just wake up. This will be another nightmare," he told himself and closed his eyes, "Just wake up… you have to."

But it didn't work this time.

"_Hey Yami…"_

"_Yeah, Bakura?" _

"_What's the worst thing that can happen to us in our job?"_

"_I don't know. We're in the same level so I wouldn't really know."_

"_In your opinion, what's the worst thing that can happen?"_

"_Losing. Failure. Making a mistake, I suppose. We can't really make mistakes, can we?"_

"_I guess but we're not perfect, too."_

"_Mistakes spell the difference between having worth and having none at all."_

Yami shook his head. They weren't perfect, they still make mistakes… he was wrong. No, he can't be wrong. Reaching near perfection was something he should not only try but to really achieve. Everyone depends on him—on them—and if he even misses a step or says a single word in random, everything collapses. He can't be not perfect.

"_So you missed a shot, who cares?"_

"_If it were real, the hostage would have died."_

"_Will you stop crying, Yami? Everyone makes mistakes—"_

"_That's just it. I don't want to be like everyone else, Bakura!"_

"_It's not always about you, okay? So you missed, did they care? No, they didn't so stop acting so paranoid and finish what you started!" _

Open your eyes and wake up, damn it, Yami muttered to himself. He has to get away and leave this place. Return to the living world. To reality. Come on, just wake up!

And wake up, he did.

XXX

Yami Motou opened his eyes and became aware of three things in an instant. One: that both his lover and his partner were staring at him and were gladdened to see him recover. Two: the doctors were all gaping at him stupidly as if he just came back from the dead. And three: that the tomb robber who annoyed him while he was unconscious was just in front of him, like a ghost would, and was smugly smirking at him as if he knew something that the agent didn't.

He, however, knew better than to shout at the tomb robber no matter how annoying said white-haired thief may be. At least his partner was bearable, but that—that thief!

"Yami, are you alright?"

He nodded, not feeling up to it to even speak. Seto, finally convinced, turned around and smirked, "And you were telling us he was dead?" he arrogantly questioned. Yami's eyes widened. He was dead?

"I told you, you have a mission to fulfill, pharaoh, and a test to take," the tomb robber told him and grabbed his wrist. "This will tell you how sinister you are," he grinned, "If it consumes your entire body, you die."

Yami glared at him until he was gone before realizing the others were talking to him. He hid his wrist under the covers before answering their questions. "Yeah right, Bakura, as if I believe in what you say," he muttered to himself.

XXX

**A/N: By the way, italics are flashbacks, okay? Too late. Sigh.**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I'm going to pretend the long test tomorrow doesn't exist therefore the need to finish Crime and Punishment isn't that great. Of course, I will have to bury myself in my studies sooner than I expect to and snap at anyone who dares enter my room and suffer my wrath (unless it's my mom or my dad, or both). Amazing what one off-campus week can do to people. –shudders—Oh man I just realized how utterly doomed I will be tomorrow. **

**Since my fate is apparently sealed, it won't do me good to slack of so here's the chapter. Read on and don't forget to drop a review, okay? **

Chapter 6:

_Nobody said being calm means security. Surviving doesn't mean it's already over for there would always be new trials to face and new obstacles to outdo, and for once, we just have to realize that small neglected fact. _

Bakura was not in the mood to be messed around by silly doctors who think they know everything. He was shaken to the core, he was angry, heck, he was annoyed at a few people and that includes himself. It's been a week since his partner finally went back to the world of the living literally (of course nobody believed him except the CEO but said executive was busy being the worried lover to take the remark seriously), and it was quite safe to say that the former pharaoh's condition was not improving.

He was there when the doctors shook their heads and admitted defeat when his partner was in coma (and damn them for that). He watched as Yami convulsed painfully during surgery as the final effects of the drugs took its toll on him, and a rather disturbing scene it was to see. Of course, the gloating he let the hospital staff (including the doctors) receive from both Seto and him was an amusing scene. Bakura shook his head, Yami always likes surprising people.

But when Yami opened his eyes and realized where he was, Bakura frowned. The other was pale, as expected, and his actions, if not sluggish, slow enough compared to his usual sharpness—he was, after all, drugged. He couldn't quite forget how the monarch simply gazed at the wall in front of him, and whispered something that sounded like it was directed at him. Doesn't make sense, if you ask him, but still, this was Yami and if he could remember correctly the former pharaoh was a fine example of impossibility and seemingly craziness (don't tell him that).

"You know you can enter Yami's room if you want to, right Bakura?"

"Sod off, Mahado."

The priest grinned knowingly as he drank his coffee. "It's not my fault you've been dumped _again_," Mahado muttered under his breath. Bakura shook his head, just what he needed! He stood up and glared at the highly amused priest, "I'm going to cool off somewhere, so… just call me if you need something."

He was already in the parking area when Mahado called. "What the hell, Mahado?" he demanded over the line. He could hear a few people whispering from the other line and vaguely wondered what was going on. Mahado sighed, "Paul wants you back here now," he said.

XXX

"Are you sure? The doctors said—"

"I don't bloody care what the doctors said, Seto. I will go on this mission and I will finish it no matter the cost," Yami snapped. He glared at the three people who strongly objected to his decision. So maybe he wasn't that healed yet but hey, he could shoot people from where he's standing and he could already walk, why can't he go if he could do it?

Paul was shaking his head, mildly disappointed that his number one agent, as Yami is fondly called, is as stubborn as always. He watched quietly while said agent's lover and partner try to convince him otherwise but they ended up getting glared instead. "Yami, please understand," he started, deciding it was time to take control of the situation.

Yami turned to face him, "I'm going, Paul. I've been hospitalized long enough," he said.

Paul Montague knew he should be the one to decide whether the agent would go or not. He should also be rejecting the former monarch's suggestion of infiltrating the hideout when apparently; the agent was not quite well yet. Of course, with the way Yami was behaving right now, he should also consider the possibility that the agent would childishly go against his orders and go alone anyway. He sighed in exasperation; did he really have a choice?

"Fine, permission granted," he answered. _Understatement of the year_, he thought.

Bakura's eyes widened, "What? Paul, you're kidding, right? Yami's being delirious, he should stay and recuperate or something!"

"I know myself better than you do, Bakura, and I'm telling you right now I can handle the mission. It's not like I'm going to be drugged again."

Yami looked up to meet Seto's inquiring gaze and looked away, "I think I have to finish this one," he muttered as if trying to make the CEO understand. Said executive simply nodded in understanding, "If he has to, he has to so why don't you just give him what he's asking for and let him finish it?" he asked.

"You're siding with him?" Bakura retorted

"Of course. He's my lover, what do you expect?"

"I _was _expecting for you to side with me and convince _your _lover to stop being stupid and stay in the hospital."

"And I'm telling you, it's his decision, not mine."

"You're his lover; you should consider what's best for him!"

"Are you sure you're not in-love with Yami right now because you damn sound like you were his lover, not me."

Mahado sat beside his friend and watched the two bicker away, Paul was actually amused, he noted, and Yami was trying his best not to laugh. "This isn't a simple case, Yami," he heard the WPO chief say.

"I know," Yami answered, "We don't handle simple cases, Paul. The FBI does."

"When do you leave then?"

"I'm going to Germany, right?"

Paul nodded, "If I were you, I'll leave next week. Just to be safe, you never know what happens with that fever of yours anyway." Yami nodded in agreement, "Fine. What about Bakura? I can't really go there with him or they will identify us easily."

The chief smiled sadly, "Don't worry about that. I'm not the WPO chief for nothing. You just get your rest."

"_Git."_

"_Idiot."_

"_Arrogant priest."_

"_Insufferable tomb robber."_

"_Conniving bastard."_

"Mahado, kindly do me a favor and send them out. I'm not going to get any rest with them shouting at each other like that," Yami suddenly said, catching the brown-haired priest's attention. He grinned fiendishly before ushering (which looked more like pushing) them out of the room. The former pharaoh breathed in relief while Paul bade goodbye to arrange everything.

"You don't have to go, Mahado."

"If you want me to stay, all you need to do is say it, Yami."

"Stay for a while, Mahado."

"As you wish, pharaoh."

**A/N: Short, I know but I had to hurry up. I still have to finish the book and it's getting late. Anyway, I don't think I'll be able to update this week because the UPCAT's on Saturday so I'll be burying myself in my studies starting tomorrow. Hope you don't mind, don't forget to drop a review, okay? **


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: I know, I know, I should be studying for the exams tomorrow but I can't help it if I don't understand a bloody thing, can I? -grins- Don't mind me. I'm trying to procrastinate here. Sorry for the late update. By the way, warning: really, really short chapter. Why? Because I am bloody sleepy and I want to read my notes in Filipino before I sleep.**

**Oh yeah, this is the raw chapter. I might change it in a couple of days (the soonest I get to use the laptop again) but no major difference. I'll just check on the grammar and all that jazz. **

**Okay I'm done. Read and review!**

* * *

Chapter 7: It's nice to meet you, Mahado

_"It makes you think the dead have other things on their mind-- or nothign at all on their minds at all on which to have it." Anonymous_

"Thanks for coming with me, Mahado."

"The priest looked at his friend from the sofa before nodding, "Although I do not agree with Bakura most of the time, you know I would still find a way to help you, Yami," he said with a smile. Yami shook his head , turning to gaze at the window. They had arrived an hour ago from America to vist Edmond Morrell and coordinate with the agents working on the case. Unfortunately, everything seemed to work against the tri-haired former pharaoh since the agents hadn't contacted him yet and he couldn't just leave the hotel room (after being ordered to rest for a day and be grounded for a few more days until he is notified).

If he had his way, he would have gone to the hospital already just to check things out. Apparently, whether he liked it or not he has to stay put. At least he's not placed under unreasonable 'house arrest implemented upon immediate release from the hospital'.

"You do know that we can take a tour around the city, right Yami? They don't even need to know," Mahado asked, knowing full well how bored and annoyed the agent was. He wouldn't blame the other, though. It sucks being ordered not to go anywhere, and being the ever loyal friend, he decided the order was too harsh. Mahado smirked.

"This isn't Paris but I'm sure there are a lot of places to visit, why don't we check things out?" he continued. Yami shook his head, fixing his gaze at the priest before plopping himself beside the other and sighed.

"I can't risk being spotted," he reasoned. A part of him was screaming at him, wondering what the hell was wrong with him... but then the rational side of him, the agent one shot that part of him dead. Well, that shut him up. "As far as I'm concerned, I'm already dead. We don't need those bloody Nightstalkers in our tail," he added as he unconsciouscly took out his phone to check the time.

"I really hate your job sometimes," the priest responded with a sigh.

"Yeah well years ago, you wanted to be in the same position I am right now, weren't you, dear Mahado?" Yami started to tease. It was true. They had been classmates in college until their third year when the now-turned-priest dropped out. Two years after, said friend contacts him and tells him he had joined the seminary.

Not the ideal job for someone like Mahado, Yami thought dryly.

"That was in the past," his friend softly muttered under his breath, hoping the other wouldn't catch it. "Besides if I finished that course with you, I still wouldn't be here with you, would I?" he said louder this time-- more serious, more of a finality than a question.

The ex-monarch stared at his friend in slight confusion and was about to ask what that meant but Mahado can obviously read what he was thinking and waved him in dismissal. Just leave it at that, he knew the other was trying to say.

So he did.

XXX

Yami stared at his phone for the umpteenth time, torn between calling the two agents and following Mahado's advice to actually leave the room. As of 3:00 AM (which was exactly four hours ago), he was officially bored. The priest had left earlier to _'look around'_ and hasn't arrived yet. Therefore, he doesn't have anyone to talk to. Where the hell was Mahado?

He promised that he would call Seto the moment they leave the airport and he would have, really, if it weren't for the risk of being wiretapped. Yami's eyes widened in realization. Why hadn't he thought of that before?

"Damn it," he muttered as he started to pace. That never occured to him before. Was someone listening to their conversations? Was that the reason why the Nightstalkers know his relationship with Seto? Yami groaned and feigned ignorance. First things first, he thought as if to calm himself.

As if that ever worked.

"Yami," Mahado broke through his reveries and announced his presence. The agent turned to look at him before sitting on his bed, clutching his phone. He held his phone up, deep in thought, before letting it fall on the mattress.

"They haven't called me yet," the agent said, hiding his hurt within a sigh, "I'm beginning to wonder why I was sent here. If they wanted me to go away, they should have said so. They didn't have to make me look like a fool here."

"Don't talk like that," Mahado soothed. He sounded like a mother would, Yami thought wryly as he felt the other sit beside him. "The possibility of having bugs here isn't low, you shouldn't forget that. They will call but they're still looking for a way to do so," the priest added.

"How did you know that?" Yami questioned suspiciously, eyes narrowing into tiny slits.

"I just know. Don't worry, okay?"

"You're stalling, Mahado. I know you well enough, you met them, haven't you?"

The priest sighed.

I knew it, Yami thought.

_'Can't control your anger, pharaoh?' _

That voice! Not now...

"Bakura, leave me alone," he hissed, glaring at the tomb robber who appeard out of nowhere.

_'Now you're snapping at me? How original, pharaoh.' _

"You will shut your mouth, tomb robber."

"Yami, what are you--" Mahado asked before stopping mid-way at the sight of one transparent figure leaning on the wall near Yami. His eyes widened in surprise, paling slightly. "That's..."

_'Ra damn it, what is wrong with you humans? Can't you just say you saw a ghost and not stutter helplessly like that?' _the tomb robber replied in amusement, _'Although I bet the _Mahado _in your court would have reacted differently, pharaoh.'_

"Stop calling me that! And Mahado, don't mind him. He's a git, just ignore him."

"You mean you know he's there?"

Yami sighed, "Unfortunately, yes."

_'Aww... where's your loverboy, pharaoh?' _Bakura asked, _'Surely you haven't replaced him with this priest, right? Then again--"_

"SHUT UP, TOMB ROBBER!"

Bakura grinned deviously instead of shutting up, however, knowing how annoyed the pharaoh was. Who could blame him? All he did was push the other's buttons, who knew he'd go boom? Deciding it was better to take pity on the infuriated monarch, he shifted his attention to the Priest Mahado-lookalike. He floated over to the other side of the room and stared curiously at the other's mahogany eyes.

_'You like him, don't you, priest?' _he asked in a hushed voice. It wouldn't really do good if he showed all his cards when the pharaoh was in the same room, would it? He got the reaction he wanted, though, when Mahado's eyes widened in shock and he paled even more.

"Damn it, tomb robber, leave Mahado alone!"

Bakura swished and floated around until he got bored and bowed mockingly, _'As you wish, _pharaoh

Mahado sighed in relief but he didn't fail to see the knowing look the ghost was giving him. Bloody hell, oh no...


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Classes were suspended again and guess what? The rain actually made me productive today. Wow. I never expected it, you know. I suppose doing nothing worth calling work today influenced me too. -laughs- Oh well... I better enjoy this since we'd go back to school on Monday. I hate Mondays. I'm always late on Mondays (why did they have to move the flag ceremony to 6:30 AM anyway?) **

**Read and review!**

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**Chapter 8: Move the Pawns First**

_Turn and tremble, be judgmental  
Ignorant to all the symbols  
Blind the face with beauty paste  
Eventually you'll one day know  
Change My Good Intentions by Wasteland_

What is the first thing that comes to your mind when the walls seem to close on you? Is it the familiar voice of a panicking subconscious mind telling you-- no, shouting at you, demanding that you cry out for help? Is it the thought that death was at bay and that there was no way to escape?

Because to Mahado, dear 25-year old friend of a certain Yami Motou, it only means one thing: darkness. It means inevitability, it means having a sealed fate, having nightmares appearing from the world of dreams to traumataize him. It had a goal and it concerned him.

What was that goal? It was to shove the guilt of loving byond what is allowed of him to do at his face. It was to wake him up with that dreadful pail of ice cold water and leave him shivering in the end.

Phrased to simpler, more concise words: it was madness.

He clutched on the rosary, wishing he hadn't been so distracted and urged himself to pray. It had always been his routine to pray in the wee hours of the morning, to greet the sun without worrying over anything but what the day would bring. The sun won't rise for another hour, giving him enough time to prepare for the day, as expected. He glanced over and watched Yami, still sleeping with an arm draped over his eyes to block the light and the other holding his phone just in case someone calls, his mouth opened slightly, his hair was dishevelled, disproving the theory that his hair stays the same always.

Was Yami even aware of how adorable he is when he's asleep? Does Seto even notice this or does he leave early for work that he doesn't have spare time to look at his lover? What the hell was he thinking?

Yami's phone rang all of a sudden, breaking his line of thought-- something Mahado found was a huge relief at least as the other sat up and answered the call. "I'm sorry," the other apologized, realizing he had just interrupted the priest's prayer.

It was more than welcome, Mahado wanted to say but nodded instead. He prefers not to complicate things much, thank you very much.

Deciding he better finish, he went back to praying and finished just in time to hear the agent convince the person on the other line that he was alright. Bakura then, he thought. Mahado shook his head, it wouldn't be the CEO. Seto knew the agent well enough-- correction, he at least had the common sense to believe Yami's words when said former pharaoh declared them seriously.

"I really am sorry for interrupting, Mahado," the other said after the call ended.

"Don't worry about it. We all know how Bakura gets when you're not there to reprimand him for annoying Ryou."

The agent smiled at the remark before stretching, not even aware of what the other's reaction was. "I suppose I have to wake up now," he told the priest hoarsely, his voice still drugged with every trace of sleep in it. He placed his phone on top of the nightstand and went to the bathroom to take a bath.

Mahado stared guiltily before turning away, grimacing at the reaction the other had unconsciously brought to life on his body.

"The sexual tension's so stifling I could die twice, you know that?"

The priest groaned at the sound of a very familiar, downright annoying voice that apparently belonged to the infamous tomb robber. Great, just what he needed!

Mutterling threats unlikely of him under his breath, he stood, took the room key and left, ignoring the snickers from the ghost.

He needs coffee. Now.

XXX

Five hours later, the two agents did call. Yami's eyes narrowed a bit when they called but agreed to meet them nevertheless. Now, they find themselves seated in the hotel's own restaurant waiting for Gregory Parsons and Leon Vega, who were late...

But not anymore.

Yami glanced up to meet their gazes as he motioned them to sit. "Status of the mission is fair, I hope?" he asked.

Gregory Parsons confirmed it with a nod. He was taller than the other one, Mahado noted. A bit darker than his partner who seemed to have bathed in moonlight, too. With the way Vega kept a close but not offending distance between the two of them hined a deep relationship between them, he thought.

"This is Mahado Evans. He was requested to help us with the case," he heard Yami say, introducing him to the two agents.

"Good morning," Mahado greeted politely.

Leon glanced at him then at the tri-haired agent before allaying his suspicions. Gregory was already briefing the ex-monarch about the case when Vega joined in the conversation. Mahado knew better than to feel insulted at the thought of the other being suspicious of him. He had gone through the same thing, after all. He took the same course and probably had the same professor as the younger agent; it was never wise to trust in a person you haven't met before easily. Even if he's with an agent.

"We have no choice but to bring Mr. Morrell under our custody then," Yami decided. Seto wouldn't like this at all, he thought. "He should've known better than to believe his smuggling of drugs would go unnoticed."

"The WPO doesn't have the right to arrest him," Leon quipped.

"We are coordinating with the local police. They will be informed of future updates the moment we receive and analyzed them. First thing's first, do we have cases of Nightstalker activities in this area for the past week?" Yami answered, turning to Gregory for answers.

"They were suspected of robbing two antique shops. What was stolen hasn't been identified yet," Gregory said.

Yami frowned at this. What are they up to this time?

XXX

The all agreed that Leon and Mahado would investigate and spy on Morell in the hospital. Yami was to research in his hotel room since he was in danger of being spotted by Nightstalkers, of course that doesn't mean the thought didn't displease him so. Gregory would work with the police and provide Yami with the information he might need while he spy on those Morell had deals in the past.

They were to go back to the hotel and report all the things that happened to Yami who would then pass the information to headquarters.

For four weeks, this was their routine. No suspicious activity from the Nightstalkers were reported, something they found to be grateful about. Their calls were strictly monitored and limited since there was always the possibility of someone listening to their conversations. All in all, just as Yami said before, it was strictly business.

It was during the fifth day of the fifth week when they finally brought the investigation to a close. One of the dealers had blurted everything out to Gregory while they were drinking in a bar one night and the agent knew better than to let the confession go unrecorded. Yami found the files about the deals and had Leon spy and catch on tape the deal.

"What now?" Leon asked as he and Mahado entered Yami's room. They seemed to go along with each other well, Yami thought. He turned to Gregory:

"We arrest him tomorrow night just as he is discharged from the hospital. We cannot let him escape," he said.

An hour later, drinks were passed around and the four of them enjoyed themselves. The mood was lighter, less tense now since things are finally going to end. They solved the case, Yami and Mahado will return to America with Morell. The ex-pharaoh would finish off those who messed with him roughly one month ago. Yami grinned in satisfaction.

"It's finally over, huh?" Mahado said, sitting beside the grinning agent. Yami nodded.

"Yeah," he agreed, "Then I'll work on the case Bakura and I failed to finish." He smirked this time, Mahado returned it with an amused one and they shared a toast. Bakura grinned knowingly in the background.

Who said anything about this being over?


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Hah! I now have the laptop under my full control! —laughs evilly— And I still don't know what's wrong with me. Wow. As promised, I'll be updating as soon as I get the laptop (meaning Mom isn't using it to work, or she's asleep… haha) because typing in my brother's room really is distracting when he tries to look at what I'm typing in the computer. –grumbles—**

**We didn't have classes today because it was declared a national holiday but we did have training for the District Press Conference so despite my utmost, uncontrollable (yeah right…) desire to just get on with the chapter, I couldn't. I only got home a couple of hours ago and I still have to study for the NCEE tomorrow. Great, bloody great. **

**Ah well, I do apologize for having another one of those late updates I'm quite famous for. **

**By the way, did I happen to forget to put a title in the previous chapter? Ooops….. bad me…**

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Chapter 9: _Tenebra _

_"The darkest part of the night is right before the dawn." Anonymous _

Perfection was an impossible feat to attain. Just like the gods in mythologies, it was a forbidden fruit, never to be eaten by mortals, by men. Only gods could because aren't they the supreme beings of the universe? But was it not ironic that no matter how farfetched the idea of man holding this forbidden fruit in his hands, how incredulous such a thing could _ever _happen, man still strives to run after it?

This was the age of the millennium, of progress, of fast-speed internet and humanoids. Though imperfect, man has technology to hide all the flaws. He couldn't be not exhausted; he couldn't work on several things at a time so he creates machines to do the work for him. It was a simple thing really; if he can't be perfect, the whole world need not know that he isn't perfect.

Of course, sometimes fate can be such a pain in the ass. It could really, really, _really _be annoying—to lead you on and then shove you into an inescapable situation, letting you realize that yes, you were a huge fool to think a _flawless _plan could ever exist.

"Do you have the arrest warrant, Leon?" Yami asked, strapping his bulletproof vest in place. He sensed the other nod as an answer. Satisfied, he went to wearing it under his turtleneck and walked to the other side of the room for his guns. Leon watched the senior agent before turning to his partner to ask something.

The three of them were armed and had worn bulletproof vests just in case something happens. Mahado thought it was wise if he stayed in the hotel room; he's a priest, not an agent. He wasn't needed in the arrest, simply put. Of course he had to do all the convincing because among the three agents who were now waiting for the clock to strike 6:30, no one wanted to let him stay, fearing the worst.

By 6:30 PM, said agents reached for the door, one of them with the car keys in hand while another held the envelope where the arrest warrant for an Edmond Morell was. It was a simple case, they though to themselves, but they knew better than to let it go over their heads.

Popular saying that it was, the worst thing that could ever happen to an undercover agent—who was thought to be dead, mind you—was to have his cover blown.

"You know where the gun is," Yami told Mahado in a hushed voice then handed the priest's phone back, "If something seems wrong, contact us right away, okay?"

"Of course, Yami."

"See you later," the former pharaoh smiled this time and hugged his friend before turning around to leave. Bakura sat on the monarch's bed and watched as one of the agents close the door, leaving the two of them in the hotel room. He smirked as he heard Mahado sigh.

This was going to be fun.

XXX

"Mr. Morell?"

Edmond Morell looked up from where he was seated in his wheelchair to meet questioning brick red eyes. Such a young lad, he noted to himself; idly he wondered what the other needed from him.

"Yes, my boy?" he asked, feeling mighty secure. The night was chillier, colder than the other night, instinctively, he rubbed his hands. The nurse behind him noticed this and placed a blanket over his body, knowing she wouldn't be scolded for fussing over him this time.

Yami's lips pursed into a thin smile before handing a neatly folded paper, he had done this before for uncountable times already but he was ready to admit that this was the first time, among the cases he handled, that the suspect treated him nicely. At first, of course. At least the man didn't shoot him at first sight, or thought wise to run away, _or_ plant a bomb and threaten to blow the place up.

The man looked at him in confusion at first before accepting the letter, his face tightened into a grimace the moment he finished reading the letter. "What is the meaning of this?" he asked in a whisper, the nurse glanced at him in concern.

"I apologize, Mr. Morell, but we need to take you in for—"

"You are not authorized to apprehend citizens of this country last time I've heard, young man."

Yami tried hard not to glare at the older man-just to be courteous- and fought equally hard not to just haul the would-be-arrested man to their vehicle. It was Leon who spoke up when he wouldn't.

"Of course, Mr. Morell, but if you would read the pages attached to the letter you can see that the local police, as well as your Supreme Court, has given us the power to bring you into police custody. We do regret that we arrest you in such an ungodly hour but we will not be able to reach you in the next few days so—"

"This is outrageous! I refuse to go with you! I want my lawyer."

"Mr. Morell, please—" Yami started to say but the steel-cold gaze the man shot him abruptly, effectively shut him up. Why he did that, he didn't know.

Gregory, having seen how pointless the arrest will be, contacted the police and ordered them, yes, he ordered them, to take the resisting man into custody as soon as possible. Yami's jaw tightened as Morell began insulting them and their agency when a shot rang out from nowhere, hitting the nurse behind him dead.

The three agents brought their gun out the moment the nurse fell to the ground and tried their best to hide the old man from anyone who might threaten his life. They waited patiently, as they were trained to, but after that first shot, nothing came after. Yami's eyes narrowed into a glare, something was wrong here. He turned to look at Gregory who nodded, confirming they were in the same line of thought.

For ten minutes, they crouched there, hidden behind the walls of the hospital. One thing they know as of the moment was that someone apparently was taking enough pleasure from threatening them like that. Another thing would be that it was either Yami Motou's secret was out in the open or someone wanted Edmond Morell dead.

Either way, they needed to get the hell out of that place—and the sooner the better.

They had brought two cars with them, Yami realized as he gripped another gun tightly. "Gregory, take Mr. Morell with you and take the Porsche, it's bound to be faster than the Honda Civic," he ordered. The other agent rose and did as instructed while Leon moved beside the former pharaoh.

"We don't know who shot us, or who's trying to kill Morell," Leon said in a low voice.

"Whoever it is, we don't need him breathing down our neck. We need Morell out of here and with the four of us, someone's bound to find us and who knows what happens next?" Yami reasoned out. The younger agent, convinced, nodded and rose.

"If that's the case, sir, then may I suggest that we create a diversion for them?" Leon asked.

Yami smirked, "By all means, lead the way, Leon."

XXX

Five minutes after the Porsche left the parking area; a blue Honda Civic rushed out and headed the other direction. To any outsider, the driver was one of those drunk teenagers again, racing against another naïve fool. But that was it, they didn't know what's going on, do they?

Yami stepped on the gas the moment he realized a 4x4 truck was following them. Leon saw the truck rounding on every corner they turn to, and stopping just a few meters behind them. It was quite obvious to those who had experienced being followed, after all. With the way things are progressing right now, an exchange of shots is inevitable, they both thought. Unbidden, they reached for their guns and hid a spare, as the tri-haired agent instructed.

It was on the eighth corner when the spar began. The bullet was aimed at Leon and Yami, realizing this, sped up and gave the other agent time to shoot back. There wasn't a ceasefire until they managed to escape, albeit narrowly. One of them breathed in relief, who it was, it didn't matter anymore.

Whoever was following them would realize everything was too late, Yami thought. Someone will be sent to investigate about them and it probably wouldn't be him. "A relief then," he told himself. In front of them, just about to enter the toll gate was the Porsche with a grinning Gregory. Leon brightened at the sight of the other agent and Yami hid a knowing smile. He'd get them later.

The Porsche stopped all of a sudden, it wasn't supposed to, and Gregory's eyes widened. Leon rushed towards the car but Gregory shook his head frantically. Get Morell, get Morell! He tried to say, he voiced it in hushed tones, Yami understood in an instant.

As Leon rushed to his partner and tried frantically to undo the seatbelt, Yami went over to the passenger seat and did the same.

"I will have your job for this!" Morell complained as he was hauled out of the car. Yami glanced at the other two before the glass near him broke, a bullet apparently hitting it. "Damn it!" he hissed, "Leon, get Gregory out of here now!"

Leon followed in an instant and pulled Gregory out. They found out the agent was wounded and was limping. "Go to the woods," he ordered and pointed to the forest beside the highway as he lifted Morell.

He watch as the men after them run after them and reached for his gun, only to find out he had forgotten them beside the Porsche. Cursing silently, he walked farther, faster. He dropped his charge and turned around, only to see Leon drop Gregory suddenly and fall to the ground.

"Leon!" he called. Gregory, noticing what happened, tried to get up but winced in pain instead. A bullet had hit him in the abdomen and he fell too. Yami's eyes widened in realization, they were blocking the bullets all along!

"Give me the gun, Leon!" he cried, reaching frantically for the gun in the other's holster. He pulled it out and loaded it. "Don't worry," he told them, "I'll get us through."

For the first time, he missed Bakura's presence. It didn't help that he was alone with three wounded people. It was annoying, of course, that his plan didn't work and as always, whatever happens is his fault. Damn it, why didn't he study the plan first?

"Give it up, Motou!" he heard them say. So they discovered his secret, huh?

"Rot in hell, idiots," he answered.

"Have it your way then," one of them replied.

Yami crouched by the Porsche to see how many people—seven, he found out—and hid even more. One man at a time, he thought to himself. The three were safely hidden in the woods, he made sure of that. Concentrate.

As the fighting ensued, no word was spoken. All that mattered was wounding, if not killing, someone. In his case, the sooner he finishes the seven off, the better. He was running out of bullets and why, oh why, must he not have backup when he needs one?

Someone held him back all of a sudden and he turned around in an instant, aiming the gun at whoever it was. It was Leon. "What the hell are you doing here?" he hissed as the other handed him a few more magazines.

"We need to get out of here, Yami," the other agent answered in an instant, implying they use the two cars. Gregory was already trying to make his way to them with Morell tagging along. Would they risk it? They could but—

"We don't have a choice, it seems," he decided before turning to Leon, "I'm assuming you can still shoot?" At the agent's nod, he continued, "Tell Gregory to sneak into the Civic. The sooner he gets the two of them there, they leave. We'll follow later."

Leon nodded once more and ran off, careful not to let any bullet hit him.

XXX

Twenty minutes later, the two cars, after leaving seven people gravely wounded and ready to be arrested in the highway, sped off and waited by the port. Gregory and Mr. Morell were told to stay in the car just in case something happens while the other two watch out for any more threats. Mahado would fetch them in a helicopter later, as planned.

"We nearly lost our lives there," Leon muttered, wincing as Yami cleaned his wound.

The former pharaoh nodded, "Our plan wasn't exactly foolproof after all," he said in turn. "I apologize for that."

"I'm not in the position to tell you this but sir, you're not perfect. We're agents and we get hurt at times, you don't need to blame yourself for that."

Yami sighed.

Just as silence tried to envelop the four of them, Motou's phone rang. Thinking it was Mahado, he didn't bother to look at the caller ID and flipped the phone open.

"Had fun escaping, Motou?"

Yami stiffened.

From a reasonable distance, they could hear the helicopter coming. Buy time, come on…

"You know what's enjoyable in this game of ours, Yami?" the caller asked. The monarch's eyes narrowed.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"I'm hurt you can't remember me at all. Had the drug erased your memories as well?"

How—?

"What the hell do you want?" Yami demanded, reaching for his gun unconsciously.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

At the pause, the caller continued, "You see, Yami, after that stunt you did a few minutes ago, we were quite sure the next place you'd go for would be this port." He chuckled. "Rather predictable, I say—"

"Who cares? Get to the bloody point!"

"As you wish then," the caller answered before laughing, "Forgive me. I just amuse myself so much. Look under the hood of the Civic, if you will."

Leon, hearing this, did so and paled at what he saw. Yami's eyes widened, "What the—How?"

"The sad thing about you people is, you expect men to do all the work."

The agents' eyes widened in realization—"The nurse!"

"Very good, Yami."

Yami snarled, "What the hell do you want?" he asked again.

"Nothing much. But right now? I won't tell you, it's a _secret._"

"Fuck you."

The caller laughed before becoming serious again, "Do what I say and the two of them don't get blown up. Savvy?"

Yami scowled.

Leon and Gregory looked at the other agent, noticing the conflict and nodded their agreement. The former pharaoh met their eyes and adamantly shook his head. As he did so, the timer started to tick and he paled.

"Clearly you understand the terms?" the caller asked.

He gritted his teeth, "What do you want then?" he asked, defeated. Damn it.

"Tell me who the owners of the Millennium Items were."

Yami's eyes widened. You need to do this, he thought. Besides, of what relevance would the answer be? "Millennium Scale—Karimu… Millennium Necklace—Isis… Millennium Key—Shada…"

"YAMI!"

He looked up just in time to see Paul and Bakura shouting from the helicopter, and he gasped. "Damn it," he cursed. Leon, realizing what was going to happen, ran towards the Civic where Gregory was fumbling with their seatbelts. Yami ended the phonecall at that instant and did the same thing.

He received a call again. Hesitantly, he answered, aware of eyes staring at him. "Now, now, Yami, we're not quite finished with out conversation yet, are we?"

"No."

"Do continue, please. And tell that agent to move away from the car."

He looked at Leon. "Leon, please—"

"No," Leon refused.

"You do know the consequence, don't you, Yami?"

The WPO agent grimaced, "Leon—"

Grudgingly, Leon moved away.

"Now, please continue."

"Millennium Eye—Akunadin… Millennium Ring—"

"Time's up, Yami, too late, you are," the caller said. The agent's eyes widened until he realized what was happening. Gregory was out of the car with Morell, good work! Gregory grinned at them as he snapped his phone shut. The helicopter was just beside them, almost.

"That was too—" Leon said as they walked towards the other pair.

"_Too late, you are…"_

The former pharaoh's mouth opened to shout at Gregory only to find that he couldn't anymore because the moment he was dreading did happen. The Civic blew up just before he could voice out a cry and both Leon and he were thrown back.

"No!"

He heard Leon shout as he hit the pavement. Bakura, he saw dizzily, jumped off the helicopter as he hit the post and collapsed on the ground. He… Gregory… Morell…

Everything went black.

**A/N: By the way, Tenebra is Latin for 'Darkness'. **


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Finally done with the ACET! -sighs- It feels so good to be rid of worrying over entrance exams. Hah. -grins- First things first, apologies are in order: for letting you wait for two weeks before an update, for taking such a long time to write a chapter, and of course, chances are, for delaying the uploading of the chapter.**

**Feel free to kill me. Hope you don't have plans to _actually _****kill me, my study table might miss me. _(And here I ramble about my apparent loss of a functioning mind after taking a five-long, mind-melting entrance exam about numbers, words and more numbers.) _**

**Oh yeah, I send my apologies to Magician April Aries and Toxic Hathor for promising to dedicate this chapter to Mahado. I'll write something about him next time.**

**Disclaimer: The quote I used in this chapter doesn't belong to me. It belongs to Severus Snape in the fic 'If You Are Prepared'. For more information, please don't ask me. The author has all the rights so I'm just borrowing his words.**

**This note is so long. Thanks for reading. Don't forget to drop a review, okay?**

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Chapter 10: For Once

"_Sometimes people bury the truth because the truth does an awful lot of unnecessary damage." Severus Snape, If You Are Prepared _

Their faces gave away all the information he needed to know. He woke up to greet the uncertain stares of Mahado and Bakura and at that instant, something was wrong. At first he had wondered why his lover wasn't there but the rational side of him told him the CEO was at work.

Seto would be there if he needed him to be there—that's it. It wasn't wrong to be at the office when his lover was in the hospital after all. _Well, for them, that is._ He gazed at the two and wondered how peculiar they might have looked. Bakura wasn't meeting his questioning gaze, nor was Mahado.

The crimson-eyed agent would have shrugged if he could; he sighed instead. Apparently, whatever happened involved him again and who knows what the casualties were—correction, _who _the casualties were.

He knew better than to ask when the question wouldn't be answered.

"How do you feel?" asked Mahado. The tomb robber, though unnoticed at the moment, smirked devilishly at the corner, watching their exchange in amusement.

"Dead," Yami replied impassively, not even noticing how the priest paled at the response.

"Doctors refuse to release you," Bakura said in his most casual voice (if that exists). "Paul's with them right now."

Yami turned to him, an eyebrow deliberately rose doubtfully, and "You know, Bakura, I find _that _hard to believe. You guys really want me out of the hospital? Forgive me but that rarely happens under your watch, pal."

He wanted to make it clear that they achieve nothing when they lie to him—and by the way both of his friends were reacting, it seems he was winning. Easily so, it seems too.

Asking for the answers in this form was a game of strategy and perfectionism. This was a game where making the mistake of saying the wrong word or making the wrong body language would eventually result to defeat. His partner once wondered why he didn't need to ask questions, why he suddenly knew things others hadn't known, and at that time he didn't give an answer. 'You'll know eventually,' he said back then.

"Who died?" he asked seriously, letting them know he was far from being amused or entertained, in this case. What came out was a hoarse, throaty question of who went o the afterlife or whatever other religions called it.

He saw Mahado look away but he turned to his partner, betrayed at the thought of the WPO keeping secrets from him. If it was his fault, whatever happened already happened and it was better to face it now when he can still do it. They didn't need to protect him. Bakura shook his head as if debating on what to do.

"Spit it out," he hissed, feeling the effects of the medicine the doctors made him take. A headache wasn't needed in this kind of situation, he thought. Someone apparently hated him to actually ruin his day.

Bakura opened his mouth as if to answer when the door opened, silently reminding him to thank whatever deity he believed in for saving his ass. Paul entered with a swarm of doctor (which Yami thought was Seto's doing) asking how the crimson-eyed agent was doing. The doctors scowled when the pharaoh sat up.

"Mr. Motou, you are in no state to—"

Yami glared at the doctor, "_What _is my state, then?" he asked before his gaze whirled to his chief. "Paul, what am I doing here?"

"You're gravely wounded, Yami. By the looks of it, it seems you're already improving. The doctors were pretty worried you wouldn't recover. Did you know you were unconscious for two days?" his boss asked. It was all Yami could do not to glare rudely at his boss. Of course he didn't know, no one apparently bothered to tell him anything!

"Where's Mr. Morell?" he asked instead.

His boss breathed a shaky sigh, probably thinking of ways to tell him the bad news. _'Sorry Yami, you messed up pretty bad this time,' _obviously wasn't the best way to tell him something. Same message nevertheless. He remembered having exchange gunfire with unidentified people but what happened afterwards? He was quite sure his cover was blown—people were shooting at him, after all. No one shoots at random people, right? (Unless of course a person happened to lose his mind but—the sane part of the agent knew better than to let the argument continue.)

He remembered approaching Edmond Morell, seeing the disbelief and anger in the old man's eyes. The man had insulted them openly, threatening to sue them for abuse and all those bunch of crap people guilty of something do but what happened to the man after that?

Bakura and Mahado's body language spoke in unison. It was clear Mr. Morell was either dead or in a critical condition. Paul was frowning now, he noted and he knew. He just knew. "He's dead, isn't he?"

It wasn't a question. It was a statement—the type where one points out the obvious and expects someone to disagree and prove him wrong. But this time, no one did. No one told him he was wrong, that Mr. Morell, the same man who called him an insolent, naïve boy when he was being arrested, was just in the next room recuperating or talking to his lawyer for a future case against one Mr. Yami Motou.

No one.

"How?" he asked in a whisper, knowing his voice cracked. It was probably his fault… again. Bakura usually tells him about deaths involved in his cases. Mahado rarely keeps secrets from him especially during times like this. Where was Seto?

He could feel the WPO chief stare at him in concern. He heard the doctors leave quietly, probably upon Paul's orders, probably because they were tired of seeing the same agent who kept getting hurt. Bakura and Mahado were still standing by the side of his bed, quietly listening to their conversation. The tomb robber, well wherever he was, he hoped that albino finally decided to terrorize someone else and leave him alone.

All in all, what existed in the room was unnerving silence. A silence that begged to be broken, snapped, crushed into pieces—just simply destroyed. Frankly, it was annoying him. "Because of me, that's why he died, right?" he started, glancing at Paul then at Bakura. "I know the why now, tell me how!"

"Why don't you remember, Yami?" Bakura asked. It was an honest question, curious, of course, but honest nevertheless. He looked at his partner—

"I don't know why."

"There was an explosion, do you remember that?" his partner asked again. He shook his head. If he did, he would've added that to the list of things he could've prevented. Well, at least he knew now that there was an explosion.

Car explosion, he supposed.

Paul sat at the chair beside the bed, still thinking. "I need to know," Yami said, "Whatever happened is my fault. Mr. Morell was my charge, what caused his death?"

"At the night of his arrest, seven men identified as Nightstalkers shot at you. Their intention was to kill you and Mr. Morell, they failed. The four of you were able to escape to the port where we were waiting for you. You received a phonecall—"

"Yami?"

The former pharaoh didn't know he fell into a trance while listening to his boss.

"_Give it up, Motou!" _

"_Rot in hell, idiots." _

Gunfire.

"_We need to get out of here, Yami." _

"_Tell Gregory to sneak into the Civic. We'll follow later." _

Sounds of tires screeching, a haste defined only by the desire to escape.

"Too late, you are…" 

An explosion.

A cry of pain echoed by another. Two bodies fell into a bloody heap.

Yami faltered, his eyes widened. He fixed both of them at his partner. In a hushed voice, he asked: "Where's Leon?"

XXX

Seto Kaiba was wide-awake, typing frantically in his sleek KC laptop when the call came. He assumed it was his lover and when he looked at the caller ID, he didn't need to do anything else. He snapped the phone open and answered the call.

What greeted him wasn't the soft baritone voice of his lover, Yami Motou. It wasn't even the impatient, troublesome voice that belonged to Yami's partner.

"Yami's in the hospital. His cover was blown and one of the agents with him is dead. He was admitted just ten minutes ago in the hospital you bought." It was Mahado's voice; shaky at the moment but compared to Bakura's, it was calmer, more calculated and precise.

He didn't have to think twice. Seto took his car keys and his trench coat before rushing to his Ferrari. Domino City didn't know what hit them after the CEO's car rode the streets in frenzy.

Let's clear some things, shall we? Seto Kaiba was a heartless bastard to the outside world. He was the most sought bachelor (since Yami didn't reveal himself to the public ever since he became an agent) despite having made clear he was attached to someone, the youngest CEO in the world and owner of the weapon-making-turned-software-developing company that sent other companies to a close. He was cold, bitter and angry at the world but the world simply loved him too much.

He never gave a damn.

Except if it concerned his brother and Yami Motou.

So entering the hospital with an angry glare that sent even the best of his doctors into a panicked mood was a reasonable way of saying 'If something happens to Yami, you'll have your pink slips by the end of the hour.' He made his way to the ER just in time to see Bakura and Mahado return with coffee. One of them had bloodied hands; the other was simply too exhausted and stunned by whatever happened to acknowledge his presence.

"How's Yami doing?" he asked. What he needed to do was to calm himself and wait _patiently _for the doctors to appear. Experience had enough telling him to stop barging into the emergency room _or _demand to know what his lover's condition is.

"Unconscious, faint pulse but he'll live," was the nonchalant answer.

"He—how was his cover blown?"

"We don't know yet."

"Kaiba, relax." It was Mahado this time that told him to calm his nerves. He sent a glare that was gladly returned before drinking the coffee he was offered. "Thanks," he muttered.

"What happened this time?"

The explanation was brief, void of emotion, he noted, and by the way Bakura was reacting, it seemed this was the last time the former pharaoh would work on a case _technically _alone. Paul graced them with his presence a couple of hours later, telling them that the two wounded agents were transferred to their respective private wards.

The explosion had injured and sent the two into the gravest conditions they have experienced. Same explosion killed two others, one an agent and the other the person his lover was supposed to protect. But no amount of storytelling or subtle warnings could prepare him the moment he saw Yami in the room.

A pale, seemingly dead Yami greeted him. His former pharaoh who knew him better than everyone else had his eyes closed, depriving him of the rich blood red eyes that could make him smile no matter how ridiculous that idea is.

He knew what would happen the moment his lover would wake up. He'd find out, he'd blame himself—he'd do all those things he did every time he gets sent to the hospital and he'd have misery written all over him again. Yami didn't need that in the wee hours of the morning he decides to wake up.

The sound of the door closing told him there were visitors. Two of them, actually. He didn't need to turn around to know Bakura and Mahado were there. "Promise me not to tell him what happened when he wakes up," he said, his voice caught in an arrogant whisper. Soft, true, but unyielding—paradoxically firm and void of space for questions.

"We can't do that. He needs to know."

"He doesn't need to know what happened this soon."

"I still can't do that, priest."

"You would if you don't want to see him blame himself just like he did in his past cases. You know better, Bakura."

"Paul will kill me."

"No I won't."

The old man entered the room with such confidence that his presence wouldn't be rejected that Seto chose to glare at Yami's partner instead. Bakura had blanched slightly before nodding passively. "Fine, I won't," the former tomb robber grumbled.

"Good."

Mahado didn't have to be convinced. If the former tomb robber would do it, apparently, the CEO was asking the same from—albeit in a more subtle way—from him. He didn't have to voice his answer either.

"Mr. Kaiba, please, it's 8:30 AM. Take a trip back to your mansion and sleep, my boy. Yami's going to be fine," Paul said, smiling warmly at the executive.

Seto thought the WPO chief was trying to convince him to relax. He would, seriously, but he found himself unable to do so. "I'm fine. He'll want to see me when he wakes up," he answered stubbornly. "I'll go home at 9 to check on Mahado, though," he thought to himself, knowing he wouldn't.

"Your concern for Yami is understandable, Mr. Kaiba. But while he needs to recuperate, you are also a human being who happens to need a huge doze of sleep. Please take the opportunity when it presents itself," Paul insisted again. "I'll contact you personally the moment he wakes up."

Seto hesitated.

"Bakura, do be kind and escort him to his home. Make sure he sleeps."

The CEO stared at the WPO chief, stunned. _This_ was a new perspective of Paul Montague's personality, he thought to himself. Defeated, he walked towards his unconscious lover and kissed him lightly before leaving.

"I'll sleep but make sure he doesn't blame himself in the end," he said in the end. He knew no matter how incredulous the idea was, the WPO chief wouldn't tell Yami what happened unless the situation asked for it. And knowing the former pharaoh, Paul wouldn't have a choice but to tell him what happened.

Ah heck, he tried.

As for himself, he had to admit it. He really had to sleep.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Oh yeah, the chapter's title pretty much gave away what the chapter's all about. Since both Hathor and MAA are curious about Mahado, I dedicate this chapter to the both of them. Just so you know, there's going to be a continuation of this in the next chapter because right now, I can't bear finishing both parts in one night. I want to sleep! **

**Division Press Conference is on Wednesday. Uh-oh. Man. I'm doomed. **

**  
Nothing else to say except, drop a review, okay?**

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Chapter 11: Mahado I

_The past may define the person but it can never define the future. _

When Mahado was a kid, his life existed for one purpose: to grow up like his dad. He loved his dad, idolized every move and every word his dear dad said. Being a 5-year old whose eyes would glimmer in childish fascination, people called him adorable for his actions.

He was seven years old when he first held a gun. It was made of plastic, sleek silver—it was a replica of a Caliber.45 and his friends envied him. "I'll be just like my dad when I grow up!" he exclaimed proudly once and his friends merely nodded. If it were in agreement or in ignorance, he never knew.

His teachers loved him for his perceptiveness. They were proud of him whenever he aced their quizzes, answered their questions with confidence—Mahado was a teacher's pet and soon enough, his friends hated him for it.

When once upon a time he was the most popular, most sought kid in the neighborhood, the next day he became the 'average nerd' who deserved to be bullied "until the freak in him leaves his system".

It had hurt to see his friends turn their back on him and laugh when he made mistakes. It was embarrassing to have the entire school community to snicker whenever he _accidentally _tripped on something. It was one thing to be hated but to be the butt of every joke and prank was a different matter.

But being hated was never enough, was it? It never stopped with a simple 'Serves you right, nerd!' nor did things end when they went from junior high to high school.

Having dreams were normal. Not his dreams; never his dreams.

"_My soul is your eternal servant."_

He dreamed of a nameless pharaoh, with a rich baritone voice, who stood proudly against a huge beast. It was in Egypt, he concluded after seeing the pyramids but no amount of study could lead to the name of the person he often dreamed about.

He dreamed of facing a dragon with bluish-white scales and a mighty roar bravely, waiting for the same baritone voice to tell him what to do. He dreamed of hearing _"Dark Magic!" _again and again, sending powerful blasts at monsters of different sizes and forms. Mahado thought he was crazy. Then again, when one dreams of these things, was it not right to conclude he was, indeed, out of his mind?

"_You will stop this foolishness, High Priest Seth!" _

He saw himself stop a priest clad in blue robes stubbornly. He was taller, had a sturdier build and was glaring like mad at the other. His "older" self had his arms crossed on his chest, blocking the way that led to the same garden he kept seeing in his dreams.

What was so fascinating in dreams that scientists try to study them? Was it because when one dreams, he drifts away from reality and feels what he wants to feel? Probably, probably not. It didn't matter, not when Mahado could feel the glare the other priest was sending him.

"_If you know what's best for you, move away from the doorway, Mahado."_

Mahado remembered frowning at the hatred in the voice, he remembered shaking his head the moment he woke up from his dream and considered everything a hallucination of some sort. He remembered the other priest with his striking cobalt eyes, cold as ice and emotionless. He remembered seeing rich mahogany locks slip from the priest's headdress.

He had wondered who the other priest was, what power the priest held to order him at such manner but dreams ought to remain as dreams. In his world, that is.

XXX

"Mom!"

His mother turned around, eyes widening in surprise before hugging her son tightly. Mahado felt tears on his shoulder and his eyes narrowed in curiosity. Mom rarely cried, he thought to himself. If she did cry, dad would be there for her. But dad was at the police station.

"Mom, it's okay," he tried saying but all he could hear was his mother's sobs. What was going on? More importantly, "Where's Dad?"

Her sobs were louder this time, her body trembled as she clutched her son into a tighter embrace. Mahado frowned at this until he realized the phone was on the floor. Of course, if he wished to pretend, he could easily conclude that his mother was on one of her careless moments and dropped the phone by accident.

Logically, however, with the way she's acting, dad was likely wounded and in the hospital or—

"He's dead?"

He's dead. Dad was dead. Mahado was sure he hadn't move for a couple more minutes before he took a deep breath and left his mother's embrace. The teenager was fourteen, boys like him need not be cuddled in times like this. "I'm sorry. It'll be all right, don't worry, mom."

Mahado left and went to the police station, demanding to see his uncle. His uncle was at the hospital with a gun wound, however, and was there when his dad was killed. It didn't make things easier for a fourteen-year old like him.

The burial was a nightmare. It was worse than dreaming of an agonizing death, of feeling flames burn one's skin and devour him alive. It was worse, so much worse.

Their gazes were maddening. He met them coldly, unable to feel anything except hatred. He hated the man who shot his dad, he hated them for staring at him as if he was a lost puppy, and he hated his so-called friends who went to the cemetery. He should just leave. He should find his father's killer and send him to jail.

He could do it.

And so, Mahado did.

XXX

"Excuse me but is this seat taken?"

He looked up to see crimson eyes stare back at him. "No," he answered and watched as the other pulled the chair and offered it to a white-haired man. Mahado thought they seemed familiar, like two faces in a crowd of people, unnoticed until they meet. Ironic.

Perhaps he should laugh at the irony of his life. Perhaps he should have said 'yes' and see how the two would react. They probably wouldn't. The man who asked him smiled as he went back to talking with his friend, until of course, said man turned to him.

"Hello, my name's Yami. This is my friend, Bakura. I'm sorry, we forgot to introduce ourselves a while ago," the man said.

"Yeah right, way to go, Yami," he heard the other, Bakura, mutter under his breath.

He smiled as Yami sat down beside him. The white-haired man he was with sat on his right. He would've asked something just to be polite until the professor entered and started discussing the day's lessons.

At least he wasn't a freak anymore. He wasn't going to be alone for four cruel years and wait for someone to perhaps pity him and take his life.

Then again, he never knew he'd be a priest someday, did he?

XXX


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Hey, folks. Not dead yet (well, sort of) but I do admit that I was gone for quite a long time. Been busy most of the time and yeah, that shouldn't be an excuse. I also had this thing called a writer's block to blame (then again, I keep having them so that pretty much isn't very helpful, is it?). I _am _sorry for not updating. Part II of the chapters I dedicated to Mahado. R&R. Enjoy!

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**Chapter 12: All In Your Head **

_There are some things you learn about life that are just too hard to accept. Sometimes, mistakes aren't forgotten. How can they be when they ruin the present? _

The sun hung low, a descent to the unknown that went unnoticed. It happens all the time, after all. A blood red and bright orange tint stained the sky; and as romantic as it may sound to anyone, the two persons watching the sunset weren't lovers. They were agents and they just came off a bloody case—literally.

This was different. This was them calculating the damage the incident caused and speculating on how the casualties will drastically change the course of events from then on. Yami watched the man before him, noticed the grim smile that never seemed to go away and saw the smudges dried tear tracks left on his sickly pale face.

Something happened inside the rehabilitation center. He knew and felt it; whatever it was, he also knew it had affected his partner in a negative way. He wanted to ask and god, the question was already dying to be asked but the pleading gaze Mahado gave him cut him off. He just wanted to help!

Silence reigned over them for the next hours. One of them would look up, see the mess that used to be the rehab center they were investigating and look down. Both of them knew what it was—regret, guilt… But they couldn't have done anything about it, could they?

Two hours passed and by then, their wounds had already dried. Other agents—older and more experienced, arrived but they didn't ask questions. There was no need and no matter how Yami wanted to explain that it wasn't their fault, he couldn't. Why? He didn't know. His throat was dry and he couldn't breath—that's what he knew.

But that wasn't important to them, was it? they weren't affected by the stench of death, either. The wearied, guilt-ridden faces were nothing but old news to them. What was important was to find the culprit behind the explosion and figure out how one man maneuvered his way around two of their agents and blow the center up. It was a tragedy and they didn't question that but it was only standard protocol that's stopping them from easily believing their rookies.

XXX

"Mother was in there," Mahado said quietly. But that didn't mean Yami had to ask again to hear him. It was obvious in his face and the way his hands just won't stop shaking. That doesn't happen every time a case is closed. Realization, however, was such a burden especially when it lacks the timing it should have. It left the former pharaoh briefly gasping for air and this time, he apologized as if he lost his own mother, too.

He had known Mahado's mother. Noticed how his partner would spend every minute he could spare with the only family member he has and seen the way the other would frown when she would talk about her latest boyfriend. Sure, it was unnerving on his part but Yami wasn't a prejudiced person. She has her life, he has his and as long as she wasn't breaking any law, he didn't really care if Tom was more responsible than Jerry.

Mahado's smile was heartbreaking, was sadness, relief, gratitude and grief all mixed and thrown in one huge cauldron for brewing; and some part of Yami wished the other didn't have suffer from these things anymore. It was a disturbing thought—to wish for something that wouldn't happen especially now that it was pretty much too late but that didn't stop him.

Yami placed a hand on the other's unwounded shoulder and smiled back, reassuringly (hopefully). "We'll be careful next time," he promised and inwardly, he cringed because it was a fact that their job wasn't exactly attractive to safety. He patted the other's back then went to the medic for a first-aid kit.

Of course, it was too much clichéd that at that moment, as he crossed the distance between the rock both of them were sitting at and the ambulance, the Egyptian never realized that he was being stared at. Then again, if it were a normal, curious stare that shouldn't have meant anything at all, it wouldn't matter. But it did matter, he just didn't know. Nor did Mahado knew because if he did, he would have called out. Yami trudged upwards, the slope barely felt, and passed blanket-covered bodies and stretchers. The medic smiled at him in a weird way but he didn't see any fault at smiling back. The smile itself was unnerving, however. Who smiles after people were blown into smithereens—randomly, at that? A heartless person would, maybe a lunatic would even laugh, he thought.

Yami forced himself not to care; it's not like it had anything to do with their case anyway.

XXX

Mahado watched his partner in an attempt to drown out the sound of his guilt. His regrets were shouting at him and really, he must have lost his mind after imagining the ambulance blowing up. His level of morbidity was simply astounding and as much as he'd want to laugh and joke about it, he wanted Bakura to be here instead. Let him be the subject of guilt (even if he probably didn't deserve it) and be the one who could easily laugh or say that it wasn't his fault.

There was something wrong with the picture, of Yami walking towards the ambulance and the way the medic kept smiling at him. It looked like a sneer, he told himself before re-routing his thoughts to the more positive ones. Who knows? The medic probably felt like smiling. No one actually believed that, though.

"Mahado, you okay over there?" Yami called, waving his hand in an amusing way. The former priest smiled at his partner and nodded.

He thought of congratulating his friend for lightening the mood but soon thought otherwise. Yami was rarely the 'amusing, quirky one'. That was Bakura. Yami was the persistent, workaholic one. He wasn't complaining, though. That's a different thing.

His gaze went back to the ambulance and saw the medic gingerly handle some sort of remote in his fingers. It must have took him a couple of nanoseconds before he realized that there was another bomb.

"YAMI!" he cried out. The other stopped and turned at him. Too late. The bomb exploded the moment the medic realized he was caught and as the body of his partner flew from the ambulance, Mahado felt like his shattered world collapsed anew. This time, he wouldn't be able to mend the pieces. Not anymore.

XXX

"You never told me why you quit the job."

Mahado looked up from the book he was reading and met Yami's inquiring gaze. He smiled emotionlessly, like he wasn't up for 20 Questions. "Not important," he answered.

"Isn't it annoying that after all these years and definitely after all the hardships—yes, I know, it's unbecoming of me to admit it and honestly, it sounds way too sappy for me—you were so willing to let it go?" the former pharaoh tried again.

He wouldn't understand. No one would because what is the most probably thing one would do after he loses his mother and watches his partner be thrown like a rag doll? Get revenge. Problem was, he's not like everyone else. Not even close.

"Things happened," was his reply.

"Mahado—"

"How's Seto?"

Yami must be annoyed because his priest of a friend just changed the topic. Not so suavely at that. But he wasn't, which was a bit unsettling. He was troubled, too because he honestly couldn't answer his friend's question. How _is _Seto? They hadn't talked since the mishap two weeks ago and that should say something; neither of them used to last a week without checking on the other.

What was happening to them?

"Yami?"

"Yeah? Seto's… fine. He's been busy at work and before you ask, Mokuba's becoming more and more like his brother. I don't know if I should be glad or concerned," he answered. They were partly true, of course. Mahado didn't have to know that.

"Bakura's been telling me that you haven't been taking care of yourself. Seto also talked to me, you know," the priest said.

"I have a case to close, Mahado. That should say a lot and you should know it. You've been on this path in the past, weren't you?" Yami countered. He didn't know why he was suddenly irritated but it was wrong to take it out on someone who was just concerned for him, wasn't it?

"It wasn't your fault," the other replied.

"Who said anything about the fault being mine? I want this to end," the former King of Games answered and took a sip of his coffee. His phone vibrated in his breast pocket and he knew it was either Bakura or Seto that was calling him.

"Excuse me," he told Mahado before taking the call. "Yes?"

"I have to fly off to Japan tomorrow night. I won't be going home tonight, I'm sorry, Yami," it was Seto. Yami frowned, disappointed at another Seto-less night. It didn't feel right, though, for him to act that way when he can be gone from one week to another.

"It's okay. Take care," he answered.

"You too, Yami," his lover answered back and then ended the conversation.

The agent sighed before drowning his disappointment with coffee. Mahado was still looking at him and in a weird way, too. What? He can't be gloomy now? "Mahado, I'm fine. It's not like I don't do this to him anyway," he said before the other could even utter a word.

Mahado sighed in return and shrugged.

A few minutes later, Yami's phone rang again. The agent snapped it open, answered the call and within those five minutes, he had said his goodbye, left money for his coffee and confused Mahado a lot.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: A few days from now, I'm going to finally leaving high school. It's sad, really; what with all those times my friends and I had fun, laughed and caused havoc. But since we're really going to graduate (and wow, last day of exams is a few hours away), our teachers seem to have the same line of thinking and decided to give us a long, **_**long**_**list of requirements before we're cleared. Gah. **

**Thank you for listening to a few seconds of useless information. o0 **

**Chapter Dedications:**** Toxic Hathor [girl, you rock! Update soon and say hi to Yami, Seto and the rest of the crew, yes including LP, for me, Yami Val [welcome back!, Magician April Aries [dude, I'm so going to miss you, Tradegyluver [I'll write longer chapters, don't worry, and dragonlady222**

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**Chapter 13: 13th, the Unlucky Number**

"_We can never really be prepared for that which is wholly new. We have to adjust ourselves, and every radical adjustment is a crisis in self-esteem: we undergo a test, we have to prove ourselves. It needs inordinate self-confidence to face drastic change without inner trembling."_

_- Eric Hoffer _

Seto Kaiba was a man of expectations and quality performance. He loathed incompetent employees, insufficient data and poorly made facilities. Perhaps it could even be said that he, being the youngest CEO of a multinational company, strived for perfection and _yes_, he did know that no man was perfect. But who said anything about him not aiming for it anyway?

Perfection was an impossible feat and the funny thing about it was that men have never stopped running after it. It produces quality work, he would have pointed out if someone asked him and keeps one's feet planted firmly on the ground. No one in the company, however, seemed to understand his uncontrollable pursuit, what with one employee to another committing a variety of mistakes _every_day.

"Mr. Kaiba, phone call on line 1."

The azure-eyed executive fought the urge to groan. "Kaiba," he said, not bothering to look at the caller ID. His scowl frightened his secretary away when she suddenly entered his office into scurrying away as fast as humanely possible.

"Hello, Dragon."

Isn't it a wonder? How hearing the voice of the one you love can easily wipe that rather dreadful scowl off and turn frowns upside down? It was like surviving a massacre and facing a new day (but that's only for dreamers—which Seto Kaiba, mind you, is not). Still, it can't be denied that those optimists had a point no matter how futile it is most of the time.

"It has to be 4 a.m. there, why aren't you asleep?" was his answer. Because his lover was as self-destructive as he was, a part of him casually observed.

"I just got home from the hospital—"

"Hospital?" Seto asked. There was absolutely no way that the former pharaoh—clever, experienced WPO agent he may be—was rushed to the hospital after he just left roughly two weeks ago.

"Relax, Dragon. _Bakura_was in the hospital, not me or Mokuba. Someone broke in his apartment and beat the hell out of him, I'm afraid to say. Is it okay if he stays in the mansion with us until it's safe?" the agent crudely answered.

The relieved sigh was audible enough to sound like an answer, and with the smile that Seto felt just from hearing his Yami's murmured 'Thanks' on the phone, he was quite confident that his lover was pleased and relieved by his answer.

"I miss you," Yami said.

"I miss you, too. We rarely see each other these days," the executive sort-of-but-actually-didn't complained. "How are you and Mokuba? You haven't destroyed the mansion, have you?" And Seto Kaiba, 100 perfectionist and ice-prince extraordinaire, knew he had a program to debug, paperwork to sign and file, and fire some employees. But hearing his lover's voice seemed to have pushed his other priorities further down the list.

"We're as fine as you're taking delight out of firing employees who accidentally spill coffee on their keyboards and ruin programs, Dragon," Yami replied. "I'm going now, okay? Some people still have to prepare for work, you know."

Seto shook his head. "Do what you want. I'll call you later. Bye, Yami."

"Bye Dragon."

Hours later as his staff and employees took their lunch, Seto finished reading five financial reports and listened to an audit manager inform him about which employee was possibly stealing from which department in the company. As said audit manager left his office, greatly relieved that he didn't lose his job just like the one before him, the CEO directed his attention to a new e-mail.

_You have two hours to decide which is more important to you, your life or his. _

_Be in the wharf at 3 p.m. or else. _

Death threats weren't relatively new to him. He gets them like ordinary junk mail or spam, but he didn't delete this one. Not when the IP address of the sender was traced to the WPO headquarters in America. And Seto Kaiba wasn't stupid. Someone was apparently working against the organization. But that wasn't what concerned him the most. The WPO was an agency that knows how to deal with this kind of people well.

Nope, it's not the idea of an inside job that affects him, it was a picture of his Yami working in his office that struck him like lightning and made him rush to the parking area for his car.

Not again.

XXX

"You're not supposed to be walking around yet, Bakura."

"Sod off. I can take care of myself."

A crash.

"Of course you can."

"Don't you have work to do, Yami?" Bakura questioned as he steadied himself. His glare wasn't effective when he his head was bandaged and his arm hung limply on his side, was it? His partner plopped on the chair and sipped on a cup of coffee, which in the former Tomb Robber's opinion was the only thing Yami drinks nowadays but refused to point it out.

"Paul said I could have this day off," Yami smugly answered. "What's wrong with that, oh grumpy one?"

"Workaholic, self-destructive pharaohs don't take breaks. They drive off, get high on caffeine and terrorize poor, unsuspecting men like me," Bakura replied, watching the other's lips quirk into a smirk. "Stop smirking! I wasn't as worse as you when you were in the hospital."

"Because it's totally unnatural for you to resort to childish behavior and petulance—unlike me, right?"

"Shut up. Tell Paul to not give you dayoffs until the doctor signs my release papers—"

"By the rate you're going, I'll say it's not anytime soon," Yami conveniently interrupted.

"Why are you in such a good mood today, anyway? Your partner was just beaten up and you're smiling like a lovesick fool who just got asked for a date," the former tomb robber sourly asked. His partner shook his head and continued sipping coffee. "Sometimes I worry for your sanity," he added. "But seriously, what's wrong with you?"

Bakura knew he should be glad that the other was trying not to act so detached as he usually is especially on rare incidents like this but by Ra, he was too cheerful and when your face is covered in bruises and every inch of you hurt all over (why, oh why did he had to be so stubborn and get up?), meeting someone who's overbearingly happy cause sore eyes.

"Is it a sin to be cheerful during mornings?"

"If you're one uptight, annoyingly suicidal former pharaoh, _yes_," he answered.

A knock on the door interrupted their banter, however. It was Paul, who after making sure they knew that it was him, opened the door and gravely smiled at both of them. It was oxymoronic; Bakura thought to himself, but hell, it didn't matter. Something was wrong.

"Yami, you have a mission that needs attending," he informed the WPO agent. The former pharaoh nodded. "Your release papers will be signed two days from now so hang on there, okay, Bakura? Yami, if you will, we need to talk."

XXX

They sat just outside of Bakura's room, the silence encompassing them tense and deafening. Paul Montague had met people who are threatened everyday—politicians, activists, name it, he knew at least one from every profession. But to be informed by someone who's been threatened before and be threatened _again_while involving a WPO agent, he only knew one.

Seto Kaiba.

And it wasn't out of premonition that he knew of it, either. It was because of a 10-minute phone call with the CEO that his not-so-utopian world of investigation and protection got rattled up and electrocuted.

"Seto Kaiba received a death threat an hour ago and no, it isn't the one he used to receive. He traced the sender's IP address back to our headquarters and had even received a picture of you working in the office," he informed his agent, whose slightly horrified eyes widened dramatically. It wasn't normal for his best agent to suddenly lose his composure but it was excusable, he thought. _Of course it was_, he insisted.

"What is he planning to do? Is he—Paul, is this my case?" Yami asked. He just talked with his lover this morning and now, Seto was being threatened? Someone must really hate them.

"Yes. Isn't this like the first case with him? You know the drill but don't worry, Bakura's going to be there to help as soon as he learns to follow doctors' orders," Paul replied. "Mr. Kaiba's on his way here so I suggest you meet him in the airport."

"But the case file?"

"I'll have Bakura bring it later."

The WPO agent nodded and made his way to his car, his mind racing with so many thoughts. It was the Nightstalkers, somehow. But who were they working with in the agency?

"_You never have one of those good 'ol Shadow Realm days here, do you?" _

Oh, great. The other Bakura's back.

"Will you please bother some other helpless being? I'm busy."

"_And I suppose you haven't forgotten that you have a bargain with the gods? By the way, that priest friend of yours? He's drunk." _

Yami groaned and fished out his car keys. "I don't need an update for everything my friends do, thank you very much." But Mahado drunk? That was… surprising, he guessed. Mahado never used to drink. At least now, he knew he was wrong.

"_Don't I even get a t hank you for being a good informant? The TV said people nowadays do that. You, pharaoh, are an ungrateful bastard. Do you know that?"_

"Shut up. Leave me alone, Tomb Robber. I have work to do and if you want a reward, go bury yourself with sand and give the world a break. Someone's bound to give you a bigger reward than this advice," the former pharaoh replied.

"_You're no fun."_

"Thank you. Now leave!"

XXX

It sucked being a spirit, Egyptian Bakura thought. It sucked even more to be dead and to be physically incapable of taking things (what's a Nine tend we—Nintendo wii?). People like him aren't even allowed to hurt the living and honestly, the gods can be quite annoying to even take the only remaining pleasure he could get away. So that was blasphemy, who cared?

He didn't even expect to be back in the world of the living (though his means of returning and how he appears to people right now weren't exactly his idea, nor was he in favor of it). But that pharaoh just had to be so bloody noble and stupid that the gods actually pitied him and gave him a chance!

"Prove to them you're worthy of living… yada, yada, yada… crap!" he mocked as he floated his way around the priest's apartment.

Then again, the movie hasn't even reached its climax just yet. Who knew what could happen? All he needed, after all, was for that former pharaoh to royally (no pun intended) mess up and open the Shadow Realm—

-- then POOF! Egyptian Bakura gets what he wants. The pharaoh dies and suffers, and he lives happily ever after with the power of torturing that self-destructive monarch. Oh, forget about his present day version. He still had tomb robbing instincts.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Happy Graduation, Batch '08! laugh **

**Ano… I'm really, really sorry for delaying this chapter. I swear I had this finished two weeks ago but mom apparently thought it'd be wise to bring the laptop with her (along with **_**my **_**files… sobs) so I couldn't proofread and upload it as quickly as I wanted to. Haha… Summer break has officially begun! Hooray. You have to forgive me, this is the first break I've had for four years now and I guess I'm losing my mind in the process. Go me! I'm weird, I know. I get that often. **

**CHAPTER DEDICATIONS: Toxic Hathor, Yami Val (I failed to review her stories but you should read her fics, too. They're great!), Magician April Aries (Gah. I'm going to miss you, crazy girl) **

**Here's chapter 14. Read and review, okay?**

* * *

Chapter 14: World, meet Yami

_"If you're going to do something wrong, at least enjoy it." - Leo C. Rosten _

The date was October 17, 2004 and it was supposed to be the best day of his life. They would be promising to stay together no matter what and that somehow, in the future things wouldn't change at all. They were going to eat in a lavish restaurant and he was going to pay the bill because he promised the other that he would—as he always did. Then the next day they'd visit their friends, who separated ways to pursue their own dreams; after which, he's take the entire week off and spend all seven days with a certain someone in Hawaii.

But he didn't count on some things. Like how that man by the newspaper stand seemed to be the same man he spotted last Monday, and that he was prying too much in what newspaper he seemed to prefer buying, or the security guard in the coffee shop who someone always asked him for the time at exactly 6:39 A.M. _every day_. It would have been the joke of the century—he was the best agent there is, highly observant and very much dedicated to his work, and he failed to notice the simplest of things. And on that day off, he didn't know that it was going to be his last day off until four years later, when an arrogant, workaholic CEO will once again be the center of his universe. Of course, it didn't help that more than a decade ago they were bent on defeating each other (and at each other's thoughts, mind you)—what with a certain someone refusing to acknowledge that the other had beaten him fair and square _again and again_.

Five minutes and 38.67 seconds from now, Yami realized, it would be October 17, 2008. And it was Yugi's 4th death anniversary. Grandpa would be preparing to go to the cemetery and visit his grandson's tombstone. He's be thinking of better times and remembering how an amethyst-eyed youth managed to make him recover from dying of grief when his daughter died, of how a small number of teens made him feel like he wasn't old as he taught them what he knew.

Yami should be going to sleep, too, so that he'd have enough energy to stay awake for who knows how long by the tombstone. It was his day off, after all; but no matter how many times he closed his eyes and willed them shut, they open again, rebelling against sleep. Besides, what's the point in sleeping if you wake up twenty minutes later because of something you dreamed about? He shouldn't be dreaming at this point, not when he was beyond exhausted and his body screaming of abuse—no, he wasn't supposed to be plagued by dreams. He wasn't even supposed to be going down memory lane and imagining the worst things that could happen to Seto. But he couldn't help it, not when four years ago, he thought his nightmare had just ended with Shaqi's death.

Now, his partner was beaten up. His lover is in danger _yet again_ and who knows how it's going to affect his affectionate little brother. His friend was drinking for an unknown reason when he used to abhor it; and Ra knows how everything seems to move so fast that it leaves him so fucked up and confused—

-- when he shouldn't be because there's too much at stake.

"_Your life sucks, do you know that?" _Of all things holy, why was that dreadful Tomb Robber _still _here?!

"Thank you. Can you please go away now?" he asked, stealing a glance at the not-so-surprising annoying spirit. If he was lucky, said spirit would give him this day and bother someone else. Heck, he might even vanish forever… or he could cause havoc on some dark alley (honestly, Yami didn't think he'd care at all). Anything but here, he thought. But the former pharaoh wasn't lucky, not when Egyptian Bakura was trying to bounce on his bed like an 8-year old in a lame attempt to wake him up (when he isn't even asleep in the first place).

"_Hey, isn't loverboy coming home? You're boring. At least he yells when he's already frustrated."_

"If you love Seto so much, go play with the magazine in the trash bin. Don't worry, I won't seal it and throw it into the depths of the Pacific Ocean," _or banish it to the Shadow Realm _the former pharaoh answered, "Then again, if I fail to resist the temptation of feeding you to the sharks then I am apologizing in advance. Please be notified that this is not some sincere remark; now leave me alone."

Egyptian Bakura shook his head and floated around for a while—in circles at first, but he got dizzy and cursed the cabinet when he bumped into it—until he decided to mess with the 'stuck-up, know it all' pharaoh's neatly organized desk. There was a framed picture (well, duh, of course it's a picture frame, he wisely countered) and… isn't _this _a surprise?

"_Hey, pharaoh, isn't today the day the midget you love so much got kidnapped and died? I think I remembered him dying in your arms back then… oh wait, wasn't he drugged, too?"_

"This wasn't exactly the first thing I was expecting to happen today, Tomb Robber, so will you please, please, _please _just bug off? Don't you have some helpless kitten to kick somewhere?" Yami exasperatedly said. "What's it to you anyway? Why? Has the Shadow Realm become so lonely you can't bear to stay there? Maybe you need someone to scare the little monsters away… oh, wait, you can't. Who'd scare them away for you? No family, right?"

"_Well, well, well… what do we have here, pharaoh? Finally playing dirty?" _

The once duelist shook his head and gave up on the notion of sleeping. At this rate, he was confident he'd never get even ten minutes of peace. "I don't have time for this. Bother someone else and you better be gone by the time I finished taking my shower," he said and finally locked himself inside the bathroom.

Inside the bathroom, which had become his temporary sanctuary from the tomb robber, Yami sat silently, Egyptian Bakura's words echoing in his mind. He closed his eyes and blinked the surprisingly forming tears away. He shouldn't be crying. It happened four years ago, for crying out loud (no pun intended)!

"Damn it," he muttered.

"_I'm really sorry, Yami."_

_And Yami was convinced of the sincerity in the other's words. The brunette wasn't doing this because she still liked him, not really. Yugi was her friend, too; and even though all he wanted to do was to glare at something, _anything _he couldn't help but force a crooked smile on his pale face just to assure her that he acknowledged whatever she had said. _

_Joey, Tristan, Tea, Serenity and Duke were visiting him in his hotel room, where he was staying for Yugi's funeral. It had just been a week after _the _death and well, frankly put, he wasn't faring quite well as he had expected to. No one in his right mind, in his opinion, gets over something as great as that special something he and Yugi shared for only one week. _No one.

_But those pitying faces were becoming unbearable. By Ra, he didn't need their freaking pity! It was his fault and they weren't supposed to be scared of what's going to happen to him. Heck, they should be thinking of ways to slaughter him in the worst way possible. But hey, that's just what he thinks. _

_So honestly, he didn't know why these five people, who wouldn't have been his friends in the first place without Yugi (and it always comes down to Yugi, doesn't it?), were having lunch with him. _

"_I don't get it," he unconsciously blurted out. _

"_Get what?" Joey asked and suddenly, all six people had stopped eating. _

"_Nothing… I mean… it's really stupid, don't you think? Why are you even here eating lunch with me? It's not that I don't appreciate it—because I do—but you shouldn't. It's my fault." _

_They were already thinking about how stupid he was and then there would be cajoling. A lot of cajoling, in fact, that Yami would begin to think that they were treating him like he's a stubborn five-year old who couldn't get what he wanted from the toy store. _

_Joey had shaken his head (and the _cajoling _begins—insert shudder here—). "Sometimes people die before our eyes and well… we instantly believe we're responsible. And you know what, Yami? We really aren't." _

_A part of Yami wanted to question how his friend had suddenly gone wise and sagely but it got countered by his observant part when he quickly informed his ignorant self that Joey was already a lawyer (how he managed to survive law school was honestly and rudely beyond him). "If it weren't for me, he wouldn't be dead and you know it," he said, instead._

"_Stop blaming yourself, man. It's not your fault—"_

_Before he knew it, he had already pushed away from the table, standing up to glare at the blonde who suddenly thought he knew everything that can be known about the former monarch. _

"_How would you know? How would any one_ _of you know?! You weren't there!" _

_And the supposed to be one hour lunch was cut into fifteen minutes of tensed silence, where Yami just played with his food and the others tried to avoid his gaze like a plague. That's much better… at least now they see it was his fault. _

But that wasn't the last of it because no one seemed to get the idea of leaving him alone. It wasn't that difficult to do, either; and he was tempted, oh he was _really _tempted to lock his office and shut everyone out even his boss and his partner.

"_Give him one month off, Paul. Look at him, he doesn't even eat!" Bakura had said by the hallway and apparently, he didn't count on his partner to hear him. If he did, he would have discussed such private matters inside a freaking office! _

"_Do you think I didn't think about that? He doesn't do anything but work and even if we'd be gaining a lot from his self-destructing efforts, I'm not stupid nor am I heartless to let him do that but he doesn't want it, Bakura," Paul had answered back. _

"_We can't just let him have his way! Damn it Paul, you're the boss and he's the one who gets followed. Make him take a one month leave. Heck, if he wants an unpaid leave, give it to him—just don't let him work right now." _

_Yami would have crushed the paper cup he was momentarily holding but that would be a waste. Why risk getting your suit wet when you can just approach prying partners and tell them to fuck off? _

"_If this lasts, we won't be having imprisoned criminals. We'd be having dead ones, Paul!" _

_That was fine by him. At least by then, he wouldn't have to worry about lawbreakers inflicting harm on civilians. But apparently, _some _people think he was being too harsh. Ra damn it. _

_And ten minutes after 5:00 p.m. that day, he filed a one month _paid _leave. Bloody hell. _

The sound of his phone ringing (somehow after the whole Morell ordeal had forced him to stuck to the wonderful invention that is the mobile phone) snapped him of his reveries. With a barely audible sigh, Yami opened the door, inwardly relieved that the tomb robber actually did as he was instructed and had left him alone, and snatched the vibrating phone up. "Seto," he answered, knowing it was his lover. No one else had that ringtone, after all.

"I'm on my way home. Are you and Mokuba alright?" was the straightforward (as always, he mused) answer. But wait—on his way home?

"You didn't even tell me, Seto! I was supposed to fetch you from the airport," he answered, betrayed at the thought that his CEO would rather go home without him. Then again, wasn't that just foolish? To think that way when his lover was in obvious danger? By Ra, what is wrong with him?

"Never mind," Yami added. "I'm headed to the cemetery soon, though."

The former pharaoh felt the other's reply first before he heard it, had felt the other nod in understanding before he heard Seto's "Okay, I'll go with you" and honestly, he didn't know if he should feel glad about it—when anyone can easily walk up to them and shoot his lover or be adamant about the CEO staying home instead. But who was he kidding? It was _Seto Kaiba_ that he was thinking about and if those years spent fighting him weren't enough, the four more years that he had come to know the executive more should be sufficient time for him to know that there was perhaps only one person who could beat him when it came to absolute stubbornness—

-- Seto. _His _Seto.

"I'll wait for you here then," he said, "Mokuba's staying with his friend, before you ask; and _yes_, I made sure he won't eat anything sweet before he goes to sleep. Dragon, you worry too much, now go rest."

Smiling as the phone call ended, he walked towards his drawers and began dressing up. Four years ago, he thought he wouldn't even be thinking about these things—of waiting for someone, of taking care of someone's younger brother and of protecting someone who's become the most important person in the world for him. It was admittedly scarier than hiding his relationship with Yugi but Ra knows, he'd do anything to keep it. Then again, he didn't have to worry about the keeping part—why should he when apparently he'd never let it go?

Two hours later, inside Seto's Porsche, Yami realized that something was wrong. _Not again_, he thought to himself and although it was probably wise to discard it rather than to waste the day locking themselves inside the mansion because of his uncontrollable paranoia, he couldn't shrug the feeling that someone was watching them.

"What's wrong?" his blue-eyed former rival asked in a whisper. Seto had leaned on the wheel while his lover was checking for suspicious cars (cough strangers supposedly reading newspapers cough) when he noticed the other frown.

"I don't think this is a good idea," Yami told him and honestly, Seto would have to agree but it was Yugi's death anniversary. It meant something to his ex-monarch lover. Of course he knew that what he was thinking was rather foolish compared to the fact that said former ruler had a point and that it was probably dangerous what with both of them in an open space where anyone could easily harm them. (Even though Yami was one of the best agents out there, he was human, too, Seto mused, and he couldn't handle more than three people at a time while he's protecting me.) Still…

"Don't worry, nothing's going to happen," he assured the other. Inside him, the word 'idiot' displayed before him, reprimanding and accusing.

In the end, Yami couldn't figure out what made him give in to the CEO's idea (and no matter how many times he reminded himself that it wasn't the silent pleading his azure-eyed lover was giving him that was the cause, he knew as an unquestioned fact that it _was _the silent pleading and that knowing gaze Seto gives him that made him agree). All he knew was that it wouldn't hurt to look around and subtly pull out his gun whenever someone goes as much as twenty feet from them.

He knelt eventually, laying the bouquet he had brought on the tombstone. "I miss you, Yugi," he whispered more to himself and to the tombstone than to anyone else. He must have closed his eyes for more than five minutes because as his phone vibrated in his pocket, he realized that they shouldn't have stayed that long. "I'll just take this call, okay, Dragon?" he told his lover, who simply nodded as he made himself comfortable beside the grave that bore Yami's once-doppelganger.

And Yami never really knew that as he answered Bakura's unnecessary phonecall (which he made so that he can ask the former pharaoh to bring a certain snack home for him), his blue-eyed lover had knelt the same way Yami did before, planted some seeds by the tombstone and whispered a "Thank you for giving him to me" to the dead "hikari".

"Who was it?" Seto asked a few minutes later as his lover approached him. The other shrugged nonchalantly, sitting beside him and leaning on his shoulder. "It was Bakura. He's craving for some crackers right now and he couldn't wait until we get home to tell me," Yami answered.

The former priest shook his head, staring at the small mound where he planted the seeds. "Ready to go home now?" he questioned his silent lover fifteen minutes later. Yami, who had fallen asleep on his shoulder, blinked his eyes open and yawned. "Let's go," Yami replied.

The couple rose and walked side-by-side to the parked car, just a few feet behind them—without the WPO agent noticing—was a man following them, gun in hand and a sinister grin on his face.

"Hey, agent!" the man called.

Seto and Yami, alarmed, turned around just in time for said man to pull the trigger and shoot the CEO. "Seto!" Yami cried aloud and reached for his gun. "Don't move!" he ordered as he aimed at the shooter.

What's annoying about people like them, however, was that they liked to run away despite the fact that they'd be more vulnerable to any gunshot. But that wasn't Yami's problem, not when he swiftly gunned down the fleeing man. It wasn't his problem at all—his problem was Seto, who laid on the ground bleedind, his _lover_ bleeding like before and it was his fault.

Ra, it was his fault.

XXX

"Calm down, Yami."

He shook his head and started pacing some more. "We shouldn't have gone to the cemetery," he muttered, crushing the paper cup in his hand and throwing it carelessly at the trash bin. Mahado and Bakura sighed in unison, Paul hadn't returned yet and they both know just how much guilt was driving their friend—their _endlessly pacing _friend mad.

"Kaiba's going to be fine. Would you please take a seat, Yami?" Mahado tried again.

"I don't understand. I messed up _again_!" the agent exclaimed, putting it into action by punching the nearby wall. His hand was going to hurt for who knows how long but at that moment, Yami really didn't know why he should care if his knuckles could fracture _or _break. His lover was in the operating room and he'd be worried about a broken hand?!

Before he could brutally assault the wall, however, Bakura had snatched his hand away and refused to let go. Damn that man. "Look, Yami, I'm not fond of all those self-guilt crap but get a grip! The priest's going to live, for Ra's sake and will you quit pacing? You should be more worried about the fact that someone's spying at the both of you!"

"Let me go, Bakura."

"Why should I?"

"There are better ways of saying that, Bakura!" Mahado interrupted this time.

Bakura, casually ignoring what the priest had said, knew his partner was annoyed—hell, annoyed wasn't even the best word to describe how Yami had gritted his teeth in supposed 'annoyance', or how his fists had somehow clenched tightly at what he had said. On the outside, his remark might be heartless and uncaring but Bakura wasn't someone who gave a damn how it sounded. It was the truth and in their world, time doesn't stop when someone close to them gets hurt. In fact, it speeds up and if they refused to act on anything, they'd be left behind—no WPO agent wanted that. Especially Yami.

Annoyed wasn't the best term, indeed. No, Yami wasn't annoyed. He was infuriated and he needed to get away from these two if he was going to save whatever semblance of reason that he still has left (not that he's going crazy or something—because he's pissed). He tugged on his wrist again, relieved to have freed it from Bakura's grasp and walked away. "Don't follow me, I'll be right back," he said.

"Yami—" the two chorused.

"Leave me alone!"

And they did. Thank Ra for that.

XXX

"_What's wrong?" _

"_I don't think this is a good idea."_

"_Don't worry, nothing's going to happen."_

And he so badly wanted to believe in that, to ignorantly forget about the harsh truths that he knew—

"_Hey, pharaoh, isn't today the day the midget you love so much got kidnapped and died? I think I remembered him dying in your arms back then… oh wait, wasn't he drugged, too?"_

"_Has the Shadow Realm become so lonely you can't bear to stay there? Maybe you need someone to scare the little monsters away… oh, wait, you can't. Who'd scare them away for you? No family, right?" _

"_Well, well, well… what do we have here, pharaoh? Finally playing dirty?" _

But it wasn't his fault. It really wasn't, and he knew that if he kept repeating that, he'd finally believe it. It wasn't _his _fault.

"_If it weren't for me, he wouldn't be dead and you know it."_

"_Stop blaming yourself, man. It's not your fault—"_

"_How would you know? How would any one_ _of you know?! You weren't there!" _

God, he hated himself. He hated his life and hated how he couldn't even protect the ones he cherished. What agent he was.

"_Seto Kaiba received a death threat an hour ago and no, it isn't the one he used to receive. You know the drill but don't worry, Bakura's going to be there to help as soon as he learns to follow doctors' orders." _

It was a simple task!

"_Hello, Dragon."_

"_It has to be 4 a.m. there, why aren't you asleep?"_

XXX

"Yami…"

The former pharaoh sighed and rubbed his eyes as he realized that he fell asleep. Before him stood Grandpa Motou, who honestly should be damning him to hell now for his grandson's death. "Grandpa, sit down, please," he stood up and offered his seat.

The elder grinned. "No, no… I regret to say that I won't be able to stay long, my boy," he answered before revealing a box, much to Yami's curiosity.

"Grandpa?"

"I believe this belongs to you."

Yami slowly opened the box, removing the piece of cloth that hid whatever was contained in the four-cornered container. As the gold reflected the light, he emitted a gasp and he looked up at the aging man before him. "Grandpa… it's the…"

Grandpa nodded and patted his shoulder. "I gave this to Yugi when he was young and I would have given this to you on his funeral but you left so quickly…" a sheepish grin "I couldn't catch you."

"The Millennium Puzzle," Yami whispered in awed fascination, remembering the many times he had appeared for his hikari and the countless times they had to escape and duel people who wanted the power the puzzle contained. He shook his head. Was it not ironic that the one thing that brought him back into the world of the living would be the cause of his woes again? "Grandpa, it's Yugi's. It wasn't mine."

Again, the elder shook his head. "He doesn't need it anymore," he answered, gazing fondly at the young man he treated like his own son, "You, on the other hand… I think you need this more than I'll ever do."

"B-but…"

"Don't worry, Yami," Grandpa cut the protests short. "Keep it safe."

And with that, he patted Yami's cheek, turned around and left.

XXX

**Gah. That was long. Wow, it does help when you write everything in an outline! Sorry, I'm rambling.**

**So, how was it? **


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: Lovely weekends must be spent on writing, and music

**A/N: Lovely weekends must be spent on writing, and music! Yes, with music for how can someone write without inspiration and what better inspiration than music itself? Random, random, random. Nope, I don't own anything—well, except the storyline. **

**And gawd, what is happening to me? It's getting difficult to write a chapter. There's too many things to say and yet, somehow when I face the laptop, the words disintegrate into molecules! I must be suffering from WB again. Noooooo… :more wailing here: **

**I'm awfully sorry, everyone. **

**CHAPTER DEDICATIONS: Stranded4Ever (many thanks), Yami Val (have you read her stories yet? You have to!), Magician April Aries (good luck with your Trigo class in Ateneo!) , inflicted (dude, when are you ever going to update on your stories? Oh, and beware of midnight phonecalls—they all came from me! :evil laughter:)**

* * *

Chapter 15: Unheard Melodies

_Trust? It's a fragile, fragile thing. One word easily passed to another breaks a relationship in an instant, and well, before you know it, a relationship probably didn't exist at all. But that's the beauty in uncertainty, it drives people nuts. _

How do we define boredom? Was it in the manner of staring at and basking in the glorious whiteness and simplicity of the wall (or the ceiling, if one should prefer it)? Was it even in the revelation that words were not enough to describe annoyance, frustration and uselessness? Then again, the wall was not white and not exactly simple or plain. It was anything _but _it. In fact, it was blue, a by-product when dark tones collaborate with light ones, a symbolism for one's will to outdo others in a timeless competition—cerulean, just were the color of Seto's eyes. So maybe, _just maybe _as he heaved a barely audible sigh, annoyed at being kept away from work, he really was bored.

What a horrible thought.

If there was anything—ANYTHING—that the Kaiba Corporations CEO hated, it was to be treated like a porcelain doll, to be talked to and stared at but never really permitted to do a single thing on his own. It was a blow to his ego, in fact, and—

"Mr. Kaiba, sir, it is time for you to take your medications."

"I know. You may leave."

--Do these people never give up?

"Seto, I'm going back to HQ."

The blue-eyed executive nodded and watched his lover pick his jacket and car keys. "Are you sure you'll be alright here, Dragon? Mokuba'll be home by 3 PM, he called a few minutes ago," Yami asked, sensing the frown on his former rival's face before actually seeing it.

"Stop fussing. I'm fine, Yami," Seto answered irritably. "I'll fetch Mokuba."

"You're not supposed to—"

"Yami."

"Fine, Dragon. But don't strain yourself, okay?"

"What's going on in your office lately?" the CEO asked all of a sudden. Then again, last time he heard something about his shooter, Yami had gunned said assailant down. It had taken the WPO agent only a few hours to catch his accomplice. Were they still questioning him, or was he detained already?

"Don't worry, Seto. They're my problems," his lover replied. "So… I'll see you later then." The former pharaoh reached for the door.

"Yami, come here."

Fearing something was disturbing the executive, Yami went by his side and searched for anything that might have caused some discomfort in frenzy. Seto sighed in exasperation, grasped Yami's hands and pulled him into a kiss.

"Be careful," he finally said to a dazed Yami.

"I… I will," and Yami left.

XXX

"Did he say anything?"

Bakura blinked at his partner. What was Yami doing in headquarters? "No, he takes the 'right to be silent' and all that crap seriously. It would have been worth my two cents if we weren't after his boss," he answered. "Aren't you supposed to be with the priest today?"

"Priest? Mahado?"

"What? No! Kaiba, you know, your lover?"

"Quit it, Bakura," Yami said off-handedly. "I want to know what we're against with. If this guy's a Nightstalker again, at least I know what to do. And would you look at that, he's trying to break the handcuffs."

The WTO agents watched the suspect a few minutes more, each enslaved by their own thoughts. Paul, upon seeing them, patted their backs and went inside the interrogation room much to the surprise of the shooter, who STILL refused to give his name.

"Grandpa gave me the Puzzle," Yami whispered, breaking the silence between them.

"What?"

The former pharaoh shook his head, "He gave it to me when…" he faltered, "… Seto was shot. Said I needed it." And it has been five days since that fateful night, wasn't it?

Bakura's gaze flickered from the suspect to his partner, all throughout silent. "You know that they're after it, right?" he asked after a while. Yami nodded. "What do you plan to do then?"

"I was wondering… why can't we just use our powers? We still have them, right?"

The former tomb robber sighed. "Oh, sure, let's. Maybe we should release shadow monsters in the process!" He looked at the monarch. "We can't use them, remember? The gods said so when they granted us our bodies."

"Just a thought."

"And usually, that kind of thoughts become real."

Yami knew better than to ask the other if he was speaking from experience. It was offending, really, and well, he kind of knew the answer already. So what was the point in asking, right? But the thought that he held so much power in his hands and letting it go when they could prevent people from getting hurt was just disturbing.

"Let it go, Yami."

"When have you become so wise? Last time I checked, you were moaning in pain for refusing to follow doctors' orders."

Paul punching the suspect immediately caught their attention, however, and the banters stopped. For the record, their WTO boss never went ballistic, or violent in this case—and to see said boss punch the daylights out of someone else, someone who isn't directly connected to him, isn't that a sight?

"Whoa…" Bakura said.

"Shut up, Bakura," his partner interrupted and made his way to the interrogation room. "What's going on here?" he demanded, helping the not-quite-unconscious-after-all shooter's accomplice stand up.

The man laughed through his bruised lips, laughed at the incredulity on the WTO head's face and inwardly congratulated himself for doing such a good job. He deserved a promotion should he escape. "Truth does hurt, huh, _sir_?" he mocked.

Paul seethed. "Get him out of here, Yami," he said.

Hearing Paul Montague's strained voice, held so well in anger, was meant to be the clue for Yami to follow orders without question. Truth hurt? What _truth_? And Yami wanted these questions to be asked. "Paul—"

"Just do as you're told for once, will you?"

So he did. Pushing the handcuffed man out of the room, Yami headed out without sparing a single glance at his boss.

What was going on?

XXX

There was a danger in thinking too much. In fact, excessive thinking can be dangerous to one's mental health, and when a certain someone decided to spend the entire afternoon staring—no, having glaring competitions with the wall, he eventually realizes so many things about his unbeatable opponent.

Wherein, for example, upon gazing at the monotonous, _too blue _wall of his room, Seto realized that there was no other word to equate the isolation that was stomping on his heart and kept him from thinking that he was safe. The wall wasn't even as blue as he had formerly thought (and expected). It was well… blue, void of anything—neutral, unfeeling, detached—just what he was feeling, and yet, if he were to follow the logic of his first thoughts on the morning he had opened his eyes to find out that he was out of danger from a gunshot, that wouldn't have made sense.

"Brother, I'm home!" Mokuba's voice rang louder than usual (but that was maybe because of the silence in the room, Seto thought).

"I could have fetched you," he answered in way of greeting, looking frantically for his laptop. How was the company doing? If he hears just one—_one_—employee messing up with the system, doctors' orders be damned, he was going straight to the office!

"Relax, Seto," his brother cajoled, making his way to his work-obsessed older brother. "Yami took me home anyway."

"Yami?"

The tri-haired agent took this as a cue to enter the bedroom, all bedraggled and furious.

"I'm going on another undercover mission, Dragon," Yami said, greeting his lover with a brief kiss. Mokuba, sensing a discussion between the two, immediately left. "I'm sorry but I have to leave tonight."

Seto scowled, "Aren't you supposed to be with me all the time?" What's weird about this setup was that somehow, he had a sense of déjà vu, like it had happened before—and the last time _this _happened, he had rushed to the hospital just to see how his former pharaoh was faring.

"Bakura's in-charge of you now," the other answered, casually preparing his stuff.

"I don't care who's in charge of me. What's going to happen to you? Last time you left with a mission like this, I almost got you back in a coffin!" the blue-eyed executive argued. "Damn it, Yami! Why you?"

The former pharaoh frowned at the outburst and remained quiet, knowing better than to feed gasoline to the fire. True, when they did go to take Morell, things didn't go as planned. Understatement of the century, he thought. But if he lets this opportunity go—the Nightstalkers were having a meeting in Germany, after all—he might never get another one to capture and leave a huge blow on the troublesome organization.

"Fine," the CEO huffed.

"Thanks, Seto."

"Who are you with?"

"Leon and Mahado—"

"Mahado, your priest friend?"

Yami nodded. "I'll be alright, don't worry. I can handle them."

The former Egyptian priest shook his head and forced his lover into a hug. "It's not your abilities I worry about. It's how you're going to react when they do something you didn't expect on Leon and Mahado," Seto admitted as he landed a kiss on the other's hair.

"We'll be fine, Dragon."

"You better be because I'm not in the mood to run to the hospital in the condition I'm in," Seto replied stubbornly, and quietly: "Be safe."

Yami kissed the executive. "I will," and left.

XXX

"_We received information that Nightstalkers who hold key positions in the government around the globe will be meeting two days from now in Berlin. I want you to go ahead with Leon and Mahado, find where they'll be having that conference and bring back enough proof to have them imprisoned," Paul said, looking at the agent. _

"_Wouldn't that conflict with my previous task—that is, to guard Seto Kaiba, Paul?" Yami answered. _

"_It wouldn't be a conflict when the task is passed to your partner. Bakura will be responsible for Mr. Kaiba while you are in Germany." _

"_Paul—"_

"_This is one of those rare moments when we have to drop everything else and grasp the opportunity, Yami. You know well enough how these things happen. No one but the agents concerned knew of this especially since we have a mole in this agency; however, I still don't trust the both of them with a mission as fragile as this."_

"_I understand, sir."_

"_Thank you, Yami."_

_Yami nodded and made to leave the office, until he stopped midway and turned to look at his boss. "Paul, what happened in the interrogation room?" he asked. _

_Paul seemed to frown at the question, but smiled eventually. "That's nothing. I never did learn to handle insults well," he confessed solemnly. "You better be on your way now."_

"_Okay, Paul. I'll contact you when we're there then." _

"_Be safe."_

The plane left at 00:25 a.m., just a few hours after they had an argument in Seto's room. Yami sighed, holding the Millennium Puzzle secretly as he allowed himself to fall asleep.

XXX

At 12:25 a.m., Seto woke up. Blasted phone, why was it ringing at this hour? Then again, it might be Yami. Was their flight delayed?

"Yami?"

"_What would you do if the one you loves cheated on you while he was away?" _

Seto muttered a curse and flipped the phone close. Honestly, don't those kinds of calls _ever_ stop?

XXX

**A/N: There, chapter 15! We're finally getting somewhere, huh? Anyway, tell me what you think. I'd really want to hear from you. **

**Oh, and another thing: Stranded4Ever (if you don't know, she's Toxic Hathor) has a forum dedicated to Prideshipping—Seto and Yami. Prideshippers out there, please do register and be part of the community! I have the link in my profile, check it out. **


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Many thanks to mindtwin and Dragon for helping me construct the plot for this chapter. I've admittedly been having a hard time solidifying the plots for my chapters and I'm afraid it's taking a toll on my writing styles. They're full of loopholes, and it's frustrating when that happens. I apologize for not updating as soon as I could. More angst ahead! **

**By the way, have you checked Stranded's Prideshipping site? **

**CHAPTER DEDICATIONS: Stranded4Ever, Yami Val, A-T-YGO (mindtwin! :glomps:), Dragon-L-Sethi, dragonlady222, barrie18, kiki2222, Magician April Aries, and inflicted**

**Leave a review and tell me what you think, 'kay? **

* * *

Chapter 16: Pave the Way

_There's a fine difference between a mouse and a rat. A mouse destroys things and leaves it at that, succeeding in annoying the houseowner and sealing its fate with poison. A rat, on the other hand, not only destroys things, it slowly eases into a firmly established relationship and destroying it, too. _

"I can't leave our hotel room, as you both know. Nightstalkers can be everywhere, especially here. Mahado, I want you to check the establishments near the Berlin Wall. If I'm right, there will be Nightstalkers lurking there. There were secret pathways underground that area before the Berlin wall was destroyed. Leon--"

"There's a chance that some of them are in the bars along this avenue, Yami. Do you think some of them hang out there?"

"Check them out, then. Report to me from time to time. I'll be trying to hack into their systems."

Simple missions required simple plans. Wherein one is tasked to _spy _on world leaders who were rumored to be the fearsome perpetrators and heads of a dangerous organization, one must realize that 'to spy' didn't necessarily mean to get one's life endangered and, or extinguished. Following this line of thought, it is only natural for one to conclude that Mahado must not get on Yami's nerves and try to protect him all the time--especially when they were ON a mission. He wasn't the subject of an assassination plot, anyway (the ex-pharaoh left that to the president of the country).

"We have three days to prepare. The meeting starts at 10:15 in the evening on Friday," Yami told his colleagues. Leon had taken a liking of staring blithely at the city from the balcony, deep in thought as per usual while his priest friend started unpacking his things. "Unfortunately, we don't know where that meeting will be."

Mahado grunted in reply. "I'll leave after lunch," he told the tri-haired agent and stole a glance at the youngest in the room, frowning when Leon seemed to still be lost in his own world. The former pharaoh sat on his bed and frowned, it would have been a good thing if Paul had thought of informing them where their targets would likely be staying, at least, but he couldn't really blame the WPO chief. Paul hardly knew anything about the meeting just like the rest of them.

Leon sighed, listening to the quiet exchange between the two. There were so many things to plan, and he didn't even know if whatever plan he had thought of would work on Yami and Mahado. "I think I should start checking those bars," he said. Two pairs of eyes fixed on him. "Is that okay?" he added, wondering if he had managed to gain the approval of the former pharaoh.

"You and Mahado will leave after lunch. Besides, Leon, the bars aren't open at this hour," Yami answered, glancing at the two, who nodded in response.

Leon's phone began to ring, catching the attention of all three agents in the room. "We're not supposed to be having any phonecalls," Mahado hissed at him. The former pharaoh shook his head, he should have expected this. But maybe this was the reason Paul had sent him back to Germany. They couldn't jeopardize this mission, after all, and it seemed that it was his task to make sure neither of the two agents messes up.

XXX

The Kaiba mansion was having another verbal world war.

Bakura glared at his charge, hating the fact that he had to make sure nothing happens to the once Dragon Master while his partner was away; and judging from the executive's stubborn refusal to follow his advices, the temptation of doing something to 'Seto Kaiba, multimillionare, CEO of Kaiba Corporations and Ancient Egyptian priest" was becoming hard to resist. From the sidelines watched Mokuba, whose amusement knew no bounds.

"You can't just waltz into anybody's office thinking you're the king of the world, priest!"

"What do you care? I want to know how those damn prank callers get my number and I want to know _now_." Seto quipped back angrily, "Stop blocking the door, Bakura."

"I'm not your servant, I'll do whatever I want, _priest_," Bakura answered. "I'm supposed to keep you safe from the people who would love to kill you--and believe me, I'm on the verge of letting them at this point. Do you have a death wish?"

Seto seethed and turned around. He heard the ex-tomb robber mutter something that seemed like 'idiot' before heading towards the sofa where Mokuba sat.

"Mokuba, I'll be back before dinner," the executive said, voice clipped with frustration. Bakura yelped a 'what?!' before following him around as he got his keys and darted to the garage.

"Seto, I'm going with you!" Mokuba called back, making his older brother stop and turn around.

"No, you will not."

"Brother..."

"Mokuba, this isn't your problem--"

"I want to know what's going on, Seto! I'm 18, for crying out loud," the younger Kaiba snapped. "Besides, we're just going to HQ, right? What could happen?"

The CEO shook his head, knowing that Bakura was already grinning mockingly behind his back before consenting. "You'll be with Bakura _all the time _once we're there," he said. He led the way to the only Toyota model in his car collection.

Bakura knew they were being stared at by everyone in the agency. From the security guards at the front desk to Paul Montague's personal assistant, he could still feel their gazes, and he felt scandalized by it. _Thanks to that idiotic priest_, he grumbled.

"Mr. Kaiba, I apologize, I do understand your situation but Mr. Montague made it clear that he was not to be disturbed—"

"Tell _Mr. Montague _that I need to talk to him regarding Yami Motou _and _his case," the CEO demanded. That will send the agency head out for sure.

Seto frowned and looked away, Mokuba staring at him in confusion. He shook his head. His brother may be older now, but the raven-haired Kaiba still needed to know a whole lot of things. This wasn't one of them.

"Excuse me, Mr. Kaiba," the PA said. "You may go in now, sir."

The CEO could easily have grunted in reply, but he didn't and instead chose to enter the office with swirling trench coats and all. "Paul, Yami hasn't—"

"Ryou, what the hell are you doing here? Don't you ever understand the stuff I tell you?!"

Bakura glared daggers at his aibou. Honestly, that man! _No matter what happens to me, you are _not _ever going to reveal your relationship with me. Is that clear? _Whatever happened to that? He stomped his way towards his sheepishly grinning lookalike and dragged Ryou up. "You dolt, you could have gotten hurt!"

Ryou shook his head and swatted his yami's hand away. "Stop it, I'm fine, Bakura," he protested. "Besides, I'm not the one you're supposed to be worried about," he added, gesturing for the newcomers to look at Paul for answers.

The aging WPO chief sighed. "Two men broke into Ryou's apartment last night and thrashed the place. They were looking for the Millennium Ring, which they thought was hidden in the chest where it used to be," Paul told them. "No one was home because your brother, _Bakura_" he stared at the glaring agent, "…was struck in traffic."

"He doesn't have the Millennium Ring," Bakura pointed out, frowning at the news. Why didn't his aibou tell him that when it happened? He glanced at Ryou. They should talk. "It's not with us, anymore. It's with Yugi's old man, who probably hid it in the Game Shop."

"The Millennium Puzzle's not with him anymore. It's with Yami, I saw him pack it when he was leaving for his mission, " Kaiba interrupted. "And he hasn't contacted me _yet_. Why is that, Paul?"

Paul shook his head. "Yami, Mahado and Leon are not to be bothered with phonecalls. They are in a mission where their calls can be traced to where they are. I'm not going to risk their lives especially when someone in this agency is leaking information," he answered, meeting the other's intense gaze.

"Should something happen, what do you plan to do?" Yami's lover inquired, suspicious all of a sudden with the WPO chief's behavior.

"They still have their phones, Seto. If they need help, they only need to call us. There are agents near Germany who can assist them."

"I don't know about you two, but Paul, I'm going to the lab for a while. Something's fishy here," Bakura remarked, interrupting their conversation. "Coming, twerp?" he looked at Kaiba's younger brother.

Mokuba shook his head, "You're annoying," he told him. "I'm almost taller than you! And of course I'm coming!"

XXX

Yami growled in frustration, slamming his fist on the desk. How many hours has he been sitting on the same spot, barely moving as his fingers frantically typed one code after another. And it still wouldn't work? "Damn it," he cursed.

The clock beside him said it was already 4:25 in the afternoon. Funny, neither of the two agents bothered to call up and/or at least informed him about any (if there was) progress. Then suddenly, there was a knock. An impatient knock that sounded like Bakura's knock, which wasn't possible because his partner wasn't there.

He sighed.

"_Hey, pharaoh, open up!" _

The heck? Egyptian Bakura? What was _he _doing here?

"Can't you just, I don't know, pass through the door? You're a spirit, aren't you?" Yami shouted from his side of the door. He heard the Tomb Robber curse something and then heard a bump that sounded more like someone running into someone else.

"_OW! Watch it, will you? If I could, _pharaoh_, I would! Now open this door!" _

"I'm busy, go away," Yami offhandedly answered and continued typing. The distinct sound of someone yelping in surprise and Egyptian Bakura's 'Moron, get out of my way!' can still be heard through his headphones. The white-haired thief knocked once.

"_I knew it! You didn't lock it!" _

Yami paused. He didn't? He turned around to see the not-quite-a-spirit-anymore smirk at him impishly, holding out a key. "Pharaoh, you should know better than to leave your keys hanging around."

"What are you talking about? I have mine…" the ex-monarch looked at his keys, which were lying innocently beside his laptop, then back at the albino. "…here. Where did you get _those_?"

The Egyptian shrugged and sat on top of the table. "Somewhere."

"Why can I see you?" Yami bluntly asked. "Why are you _still _here?"

"Pharaoh, pharaoh… haven't you heard enough? I'm here because you have a contract with the gods," the other answered, patting Yami's head mockingly. "And I'm not a spirit anymore because your Puzzle's with you."

"What's that supposed to mean?! You mean to tell me that you walked around the place with nothing but those… and no one even bothered to notify the police to arrest you?"

Egyptian Bakura sighed. "Unfortunately, the only one who can see me, is you… oh, and your priest friend," he replied. "By the way, where _is _your friend?"

"Yami, it's Mahado," a voice called from the other side of the now-locked door. Perfect timing as always, the ex-duelist thought. "Mahado, where are your keys?" He heard the other sigh.

"I lost it. I may have dropped it when I stepped out of the elevator earlier," the priest answered.

Yami glared at the spirit (even when he wasn't technically one, anymore) before opening the door for his bedraggled friend. "Here are your keys," he dropped it on Mahado's outstretched palm.

"How did you…?"

"Enjoyed the rumble, priest?"

"What… What is he doing here?!"

"Mahado, do me a favor and get this annoying thief out of here," the former pharaoh ordered and settled for finishing his task. Egyptian Bakura grinned widely as he felt Mahado's withering gaze on him.

"Come along."

XXX

"Paul looks like someone familiar," Mokuba remarked as he and Bakura walked towards the agency's lab.

"That's probably because you see him a lot," the other answered.

"No, I'm sure of it. He reminded me of…" the Kaiba Corp. VP faltered as he thought of the name of the agent with Yami. "His name's Leon, I think."

Bakura shook his head at the other's answer. "Paul's son died years ago in a boating incident. Now, stop hogging the hallway and follow me," he replied, partly delighted at the other's scowl, and walked into the DNA lab.

"It wouldn't hurt to check it out, would it?" Mokuba tried again, catching the attention of the DNA tech, who had been inspecting the samples on the table in front of them. "Fine, fine… make it quick," the agent replied.

Mokuba nodded and sat beside the DNA tech, who was unsure at first but decided to follow Bakura's orders anyway in the end. "Let me see… six pairs of alleles mean they're relatives, right?"

The results were printed minutes later, and were in Mokuba's hands seconds after. Bakura peeked at the paper, eyes widening in surprise. "Leon's his son?!"


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: Did you know that I've had this chapter (3/4 of it, anyway) since May and that I just couldn't finish it? Gah. And it's only 7 pages short! :cries: **

**Thanks to Mindtwin who helped me with this chapter's plot, and to barrie18, who provided so many insights. Seriously, it was overwhelming but pretty helpful! But I'm afraid I'd destroy the chapter if I try to answer all the questions you raised in one go. :bows head: Gomen nasai! **

**CHAPTER DEDICATIONS: Dragon-L-Sethi, AT-Y-YGO (mindtwin! She changed her penname now, I think), Toxic Hathor, barrie18, dragonlady222**

* * *

Chapter 17: Continents Apart

To discover is nothing more than a good share of luck and a handful of courage. It required sacrifice and the guts to chase after the dream many would rather abandon. It was running after impossibility, after perfection no matter how foolish one may be. But to discover—discovery—meant a lot of things. From way before the Spanish Inquisition, before nations burned and killed, before men learned to gamble with guns, tanks and other weapons of warfare just to prove that they were powerful and capable of destruction, there was a world of endless, unanswered questions.

Back then, the Earth was the center of the universe. It had been a rather _interesting _point of view, to envision mankind as the root of everything, the most important among the important—naturally, men are prideful, narcissist beings. Long before Communism threatened the popularity of a government made by and for the people, the river controlled everything, from agriculture, time to culture. It had been the way of ancient civilizations to build cities near the "water of life"; and back then, the sun, all blazing and all powerful, had been one of the gods. Until these ancient beings, who had prayed to their many gods and goddesses for thousands of years, who had built pyramids and ziggurats, tombs and elegant statues that stood against the test of time, slowly ceased to exist—well, their culture, that is. Perhaps they failed to survive because of diseases, foreign, deadly, incurable ones that endangered both young and old, regardless of status and gender; it could have been the effect of one civil war to another, from one dethroned ruler to another assassinated one. There had been massacres, rebellion and disasters. There were reasons, so many of them. Most of them were half-truths, words carefully manipulated to hide every monarch and general's dark secrets.

Leon once hated them—Caligula, Nero, Hitler. In history class, he despised how they wormed their way through every little hole even when they weren't supposed to. But through the deceit and the almost faultless planning, each one of them attained what they had wanted. True, Caligula was bludgeoned to death and Nero, killed. Hitler, he committed suicide. Fact remains, and that fact was that they got what they wanted. And Leon, as he watched the sun descend from its throne, knew his reasons were far better than all three rulers' combined. Sure, it may have confused him a bit in the beginning, but it was not enough to stop him.

Why the sudden change of heart, why he had shifted sides, why he chose to provide **them **information; there was an explanation. As he kicked a pebble into the man-made lake and noticed the clouds that hovered above the city, knowing in an instant that he would still be outside when rain pours, his mind wandered off. Under the shade of that particular tree, there had been fleeting, goodbye kisses. On the very lake he just kicked a piece of compiled sediments to; they had pushed and pulled each other.

Those were the times... such sweet memories that were meant to be left behind. They had bidden each other farewell back then, thought it will only be temporary as they wait for the appropriate time to meet the agents from America. They thought of sneaking off one night afterwards and rent a hotel without anyone knowing, it was only for a night, after all, what's the big deal?

But they were wrong. There were some things that they should have at least expected and prepared for—the gunshots, a car turning turtle, injuries, blood, laughter, taunts, more gunshots, more blood, an explosion then darkness. They should have anticipated their eventual failure, but they hadn't. He had wanted to protest, why should he follow the orders of someone he barely even knows? What were the chances that the agent from America wouldn't betray them to those they wanted to get caught? Trust no one at first glance; it was their philosophy. They're free to define what those words meant, free to do as they will except to break that 'code' and to apply it in their missions however they want it. Gregory had shaken his head and believed otherwise.

They were fools, and Gregory had paid for their idiocy. Then again, if Motou hadn't showed up, if he had only chosen to stay in bed as per doctors' orders, if he had only decided not to pursue Edmond Morrell... so many what if's, so many possible consequences and Gregory wouldn't have died. They were what if's for a reason the same way his betrayal answers a 'why'. He wanted revenge. He wanted Gregory back, and with the help of some things, he would have the other back. Who cares if Gregory wouldn't remember him? Who cares if Motou dies? Who actually gives a damn?

The rain had started to pour when he found himself admiring the building in front of him. On one of those rooms, the two agents were probably already wondering why he had yet to return; Leon shrugged indifferently. The Best Premier Hotel Steglitz International was no ordinary hotel, and though he scoffed at the idea of the three of them parading as college students on vacation, he couldn't blame Paul Montague for choosing one of the most likely options for a 'secret' conference. By the time he had gone back to the hotel, tourists had already made a beeline from one store to another, occupying the many restaurants in the lane. The Schlosstrasse, after all, was a street of department stores, restaurants, snack bars and pubs. One long street of opportunities to spend money—countless amounts, it seems—and to deliberately forget about everything else.

"Leon, what took you so long?" Seemingly exasperated crimson eyes landed on him the moment he opened the door.

Leon shrugged nonchalantly, knowing better than to lie his way out of this particular scenario—well, not blatantly lie, that is. Yami Motou sat before him, like a king would before a lowly subject… a condemned man whose fate was in a merciful—or merciful, that really does depend—monarch. Leon should really start thinking of _better _analogies. "I was delayed. Most of the bar owners refused to let anyone in; had to talk to them one-by-one and pretend I was desperate for a drink," he explained as he took his jacket off. One quick glance of the entire room told him that the priest-turned-spy was nowhere to be found, which was honestly peculiar. Mahado should be back by now.

Yami sighed, perhaps out of annoyance, before letting the issue slip. "What did you find?" he asked.

"Well, you're right about one thing: they are going to meet in the conference room of this hotel," the brown-haired agent answered, smirking inwardly at the drunken looks of the Nightstalkers he found in the bar (what idiots…). "But the purpose is far from what we conceived it to be." He sensed the 'senior' agent grimace—was it something he said?—and he realized that he felt some weird sense of joy at causing Yami distress. Weird. He walked towards the refrigerator and took out a beer, handing one to Yami, who merely shook his head. "Thanks anyway," Motou had said.

Leon was drowning the sound of Yami typing on his laptop with the beverage when the door opened with a bang as Mahado strutting in. "What the hell, Mahado?" He demanded, seeing the formerly seated agent stand up to catch the priest. Mahado gasped and tried to catch his breath, as if he was running from someone who could—who _would _kill him. And the wound on his arm pretty much gave away what had happened.

It was not life-threatening, Yami thought as he applied pressure on the wound. From a distance, he could hear Leon search their bags for the first-aid kit. Mahado's eyes were shut tight, his face wincing with the pain. "What happened?" He whispered. The former pharaoh was not a so-called 'senior agent' without reason. He has his suspicions, and it seems that maybe this time, he guessed right (yet again). "Nightstalkers… were… in a bar… happened on them… talking with… Leon…" Mahado winced again and stopped, noticing that Leon was headed towards them with the medicine kit. Yami's eyes had widened slightly before focusing his gaze on the other _un_wounded agent.

"Leon, go to the police station. I need a list of every gang in this area," he ordered. Gang violence was the least of their problems—they shouldn't even be worrying about such thing at this place—but it made a pretty good cover-up story. Leon stared at him in confusion before nodding. Seconds later, Mahado and Yami were the only ones in the room. There was still the question as to how no one recognized wounded people enter a five-star hotel, but they had honestly better things to do.

XXX

"You mean to tell me that you sent Yami on a mission when he's the primary target?!"

Seto Kaiba was furious as he glared at the WPO head. It was bad enough that his lover had to get wounded in most of his cases—he shouldn't have allowed Yami to pursue such dangerous job, but it was what Yami wanted in the first place—but this was simply ridiculous. There was a difference in preparing for an all-out war with an opponent, and charging at an enemy with only a handgun. This was suicidal!

"Mr. Kaiba, I apologize—"

"Don't apologize. Tell Yami to return. If you know what's best for your agent, you shouldn't have sent someone who could be in danger."

"Every agent knows the danger of his job, Mr. Kaiba. I'm afraid you just have to trust in Yami that he will be safe."

Seto, who was merely standing in front of Paul Montague, slammed his fist on the desk. "I trust him with my life," he declared, "But don't you ever even _imply _that I'll just stand here and let him get hurt!" He and Yami may not be talking right now, may not even be in the same continent as of the moment but those didn't matter. What matters was his lover. He reached for his phone. A phonecall made him pause as he saw Paul frown.

"Yami."

The CEO's eyes widened; within him, the temptation to snatch the phone from the obviously distressed WPO chief was almost unbearable. Bakura chose that particular moment to step into the office to inform them what he and the younger Kaiba had accidentally found out. But the look on Paul's face stopped him—made him pause mid-way, in fact, that when Paul shook his head and quite rashly ordered Yami to "get back here now", Seto automatically considered that he was right about this time.

Yami was in trouble.

"Mahado's hurt," Paul reported, looking at them gravely. There was sadness in his eyes, the one that usually resulted from someone betraying their trust. Bakura considered it neither surprising nor deserved. Paul apparently didn't know anything about his son; and at this moment, he was affected by Leon's blatant betrayal because Leon was first and foremost, an agent. He never liked those things happening in his agency. Especially when it endangers the lives of the other agents. In this case, if it endangers the lives of two agents he considered dear.

"I'm getting them from the airport," Bakura suddenly blurted out, receiving the stare from the ex-priest. "What? He's my partner. You can't expect me to wait here. That pharaoh takes so long to drive!"

Technically, he was lying. Yami Motou drives well past beyond the speed limit, no matter the territory and no matter the limit. No one dared catch him since he only breaks this rule when it was necessary. Damn law-abiding idiot, Bakura couldn't help but mutter to himself. But regardless if the agent drove faster than anyone else in the agency or not, Bakura was also sure that by the time his partner returns, he would no longer be in the condition to drive. Most likely, Yami would be injured again (if not tending to and overly worried about someone who has been injured).

"I'm coming with you," Seto replied.

"No!" the WPO chief argued, "You must remember that your life is equally in danger here. Have you forgotten the death threats?"

"And do you think I give a damn? They could try, they won't succeed," the CEO snapped. He was suddenly tired of hearing anything from Paul Montague. Seto frowned at the obvious protests coming from the chief and then from his brother and Bakura. He conceded, though, and decided to stay somewhere else in the building. Yami's been in too many dangerous missions lately. They have to talk.

"_You're not just going to talk to him about that, are you?" _

Seto sat up. He had chosen to stay in his car and lie down for a bit. He needed sleep, he admitted as such. And he was about to fall asleep if it weren't for that voice which… came… out of nowhere? Was that even—he was hallucinating. From the passenger seat, a figure materialized before him and he found himself face-to-face with—

"BAKURA?!"

"_Oh, hi, priest. I didn't expect you to remember me. So, how's the palace lately? Boring?" _

Palace?

"Aren't you supposed to be in the airport right now, or heading to, at least?" Seto demanded. Something was off about this Bakura, though. He seemed crazier and his complexion's darker, too. The scar just below his eye was a giveaway. Bakura didn't have a scar when Seto left the office. This wasn't—

"_That would be the present version of me. As I was saying, you're not supposed to talk to your sweetheart—gag—about that. What about fidelity issues? Or, infidelity, for that matter?" _

The Tomb Robber laughed.

"I'm hallucinating."

"_You are?" _

"Go away."

"_Your Yami's cheating on you, by the way."_

"He isn't. He'd never do that."

"_Or so you say. Why didn't he call you, then?" _

Seto decided it best to ignore the spirit/Bakura-lookalike. It was better for his sanity that way. Then again, why didn't Yami call?

TBC (whenever that will be… XX)


End file.
